


Monsters Under The Bed

by BlueEyedArcher



Series: Outlast One-Shots [45]
Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Adult Waylon x Monster Eddie, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood and Injury, Complex idea, Eddie is the monster under Waylon's bed, Even the monsters think Waylon needs to sleep, Exhaustion, Hallucinations, I don't really know how to tag this correctly, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insanity, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Monster World, Monsters, Nightmares, Really hard to do, Sexual Content, Sleepless nights, Suicide Attempt, Tentacle Monsters, Violence, Waylon has a monster under his bed for life, Waylon needs sleep, other worlds or realms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-03-03 18:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13347129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Waylon never believed in the tales from his childhood friends about monsters being beneath their beds. The young man always thought it was ridiculous and that his friends were just trying to scare him. The days passed after that and he became far too curious for his own good until one night after his parents went to bed, he climbed out of the warmth of his blankets and got down on his hands and knees, gazing beneath into the darkest recesses of the underneath. There was no sign of another creature dwelling there even as he called out to it. Greeting it with a shaky “Hello.”There was only the return of silence causing him to sigh and shake his head, sitting back on his knees. What he wasn’t expecting was a sing song voice to rise on the air, coming from his closet behind him. A deep rumble as piercing blue eyes gazed at him from the darkness within. A massive shadow loomed from the doorway and stepped further into the room, the fading street lamps outside shedding what little illumination it could upon the distorted and scarred features on the side of the creature’s face as it bared sharp pointed teeth in a wolfish grin. “Hello Darling~”[Eddie is the Monster under Waylon's Bed.]





	1. Monsters Under The Bed

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a new concept that came about the other day and I wrote an AU idea about it and it turned into a full blown story after several followers excitedly started talking to me about the potential and lore of the story. So here it is. The world where there's a monster under everyone's bed (In this case the closet).
> 
> Please let me know what you think in the comments down below.

Waylon never believed in the tales from his childhood friends about monsters being beneath their beds. The young man always thought it was ridiculous and that his friends were just trying to scare him. The days passed after that and he became far too curious for his own good until one night after his parents went to bed, he climbed out of the warmth of his blankets and got down on his hands and knees, gazing beneath into the darkest recesses of the underneath. There was no sign of another creature dwelling there even as he called out to it. Greeting it with a shaky “Hello.”

There was only the return of silence causing him to sigh and shake his head, sitting back on his knees. What he wasn’t expecting was a sing song voice to rise on the air, coming from his closet behind him. A deep rumble as piercing blue eyes gazed at him from the darkness within. A massive shadow loomed from the doorway and stepped further into the room, the fading street lamps outside shedding what little illumination it could upon the distorted and scarred features on the side of the creature’s face as it bared sharp pointed teeth in a wolfish grin. “Hello Darling~”

 

Waylon had immediately raced off to his parents bedroom with cries of monsters in his closet. His parents were startled, having never had this problem with their son and rushed in to find only shadows and an abundance of clothing piled on a chair in the same corner the supposed monster had been standing in. They dismissed his pleas as idle nightmares and this trend continued for a couple years. Waylon had started sleeping earlier before the true darkness could come and his fears and memories faded about the monster in his closet as his days became longer, more stressful and he was dealing with real monsters day in and out. He grew up and moved on. Until late one night, the techie heard a soft scratching noise coming from the back bedroom. His bedroom closet. He peeled himself away from his work, giving the clock on the corner of his laptop a glance and noticing it was past 2 in the morning.

He ventured into the bedroom and glanced around, finding no source to the sound. Out of habit, he called out into the darkness with a weary “Hello?” Running his fingers through his blonde locks, drawing them out of his face as he sighed, giving his weary eyes a rub as he turned back towards his office when a creak sounded from his closet, the door shifting as a familiar singsong voice broke into the nearly silent room. His heartbeat leap into his throat, racing hard and fast as his eyes widened, whirling around to come face to face with the same large creature with the sharp toothed smile and the face distorted by scars.

It bared it’s lips in a smile that was far too deadly and hungry as the voice cooed. “Miss me Darling~?” The shadowy figure looming over him, easily dwarfing him the same way it did when he was a little boy. Waylon was frozen in place, incapable of moving an inch unlike his childhood where fear made him fleet of foot. All the color left the blonde’s expression, seeping out into a sickly pallor as his pale blue eyes were fixed on the creature in front of him. It raised a clawed hand out towards him, slow and careful as it swept a few of the stray blonde locks from his eyes before his palm caressed his cheek as if lovingly. It was tender as those talons gently glided over his skin. His eyes closed as a soft whimper rose in his throat. The sharp ends trailing down along his jaw to hook lightly under his chin, tilting his head up so their eyes met. A low rumble sounded in the creature’s chest, one that Waylon couldn’t decipher but assumed it was amused. He dared to peek out past his eyelids to see those deep dark blue pools gazing down with a toothy smirk. Sharp teeth bared in approval as their gazes met.

“Don’t be scared darling.” He crooned, closing the distance between them until they were face to face. The monster was forced to bend over to meet eye to eye, their sheer height difference was terrifying enough without the additional gnarled traits distorting his features. One half of his face was charming and normal but the other half...Waylon didn’t want to know what could possibly inflict those kinds of marks on a creature like this. He closed his eyes, holding his breath as it’s lips brushed over his neck, feeling the pulse point as it’s tongue lathed over the spot where his jugular was. Waylon’s heart was racing so fast and hard he was certain the monster could hear it as well. “I can taste your fear darling. It’s bittersweet.” He purred into the blonde’s ear, the vibrations of that deep timbre sending chills down his spine. He felt a dizzying wave rush up on him as his body swayed in place. He could hear his blood rushing so loudly in his ears and the creature’s presence was far too close. The heat rolling off of his body was suffocating, stifling in the suddenly too cramped quarters of his bedroom. A bead of sweat trickled down his spine as a claw trailed down along his neck until it reached the dip of his throat but that was all Waylon remembered. Drowning in a darkness that was far too welcoming.

 

 

 

The first rays of morning shed light through his bedroom windows and crawled across his features, illuminating through his eyelids and drawing him through the shadowy tendrils of sleep. His messy blonde locks swept out of his face and behind his ears, his body tucked neatly into bed with a tender care as if pleasant dreams would follow the action. The techie shifted with a groan as he turned his back to the window with disdain towards the early sun interfering with his sleep. He grumbled to himself before he was forced to resign from his attempts and relinquish the last shreds of his sleep, eyes fluttering open as he squinted at his bedroom wall with conflicting feelings. His confusion rose above all else with the fact he didn’t remember coming to bed and hadn’t the last few nights due to the overflow of work. He pushed himself up into a seated position, his body posted on either side with his arms as his eyes gazed around the room, searching for a presence that wasn’t there.

 

_Piercing blue eyes and teeth as sharp as broken glass. A low growl like beasts prowling around a lonely rabbit. Talons trailing over his back, crawling up his spine as he cowered beneath the blankets. No matter how many times he’d cry and pleads for his parents he knew they would never save him from the creature looming dangerously over his bed.  The intimidating figure that glided silently from his closet every single night. Like the frightened child he was, he was defenseless against it, even as those lips would part in sweet greeting, it only cemented the fact it was aware of him and he couldn’t just disappear if he held still long enough._

 

Waylon pressed a hand over his face as distant memories resurfaced from his childhood. Those eyes. He recognized them from the night before. The massive shadow that cast across his wall as the creature moved through the room with such comfort and ease. His hand moved down to caress his throat, rubbing at the skin as he felt the lingering sensation of those talons on his neck. A shiver rushing down his spine making the hair on his arms rise with unease. “It’s just a dream. A nightmare.” He murmured to himself and shook his head. “I’m just stressing over this stupid project too much.” He spread his fingers through his blonde locks, drawing their greasy tendrils out of his face and shuddering at the fact he desperately needed a shower.   
  
He dragged himself out of the bed and sighed, pushing himself up as he looked around, finding his room was untouched as per usual. Completely organized and almost obnoxiously clean. He knew where every single item was in his home. Nothing was ever out of place unless his best friend Miles was over and moving things around to tease him. He had developed the obsession at a young age but didn’t find much problem with it and neither did his parents. He shook his head as more thoughts about his childhood were coming back. Memories he wished would just stay forgotten once and for all.

He shuffled into the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom from the hallway, across the hall was his office where he had been working the night before. His pale hues ghosting over towards the room as he passed and spotted his chair pulled away from the desk and his laptop screen still open. The little yellow light in the corner signalling that his laptop had switched over to sleep mode, drawing his immediate attention. He went into the room and swiped his fingers across the touch pad and watched the screen come to life. A few keystrokes and he was back to where he left off the night before. His icon sitting in the middle of writing an important email about their project at the company. Information he was supposed to have in his supervisors’ inbox early this morning. His eyes widened as he slipped into the chair with ease and hurriedly finished the last few lines he had somehow failed to complete the night before. Hitting send before shutting it down. He froze, thinking over how he could possibly leave the email unfinished like that the previous night and assumed he was far more stressed then he first thought.

Waylon jolted in his seat when his phone buzzed across the desk, still sitting in its usual place from the night before while he worked. He gave it a quick glance and shuddered as the name of his supervisor spread across the screen. He swiped the green icon and accepted the call only to be met with a deeply annoyed voice on the other end berating him for his laziness and failure to do anything on time. Which Waylon knew was incorrect because he is and always has been punctual in all aspects of his life. Except when sleep was brought into play. His life didn’t allow much time for that and the techie assumed that was about the only reason last night’s fumble even happened or that he had such a strange dream about his past. The conversation was short and far from sweet. He put in for sick leave for a day which he had more than enough built up over time. His supervisor was hesitant to allow it but due to recent regulations, he couldn’t deny the request and accepted, giving Waylon the day off but not ending the call without reminding him that they had deadlines coming up and it was the techie’s ass should this new program fail.

The male sighed and was relieved when he was finally hung up on sinking back into his seat with a wistful sound. He pinched the bridge of his nose, still feeling tired but having too much work to catch up on and on top of that, house chores that were lacking. He was sure he was on the verge of starvation as well with the looks of his kitchen cupboards and knew this was an opportunity well desired and deserved.

 

Waylon’s mood perked up after the shower, slipping into his normal routine with ease. The strange dream forgotten and pushed to the back of his mind as he focused on his to-do list. The rest of the day went by quickly as he worked through his chores in the morning, reasserting the cleanliness of his home and running errands. He didn’t return home until later in the evening, putting away his groceries and plopping down onto the couch with a deep sigh. He felt much more relaxed and accomplished with his day, finding the outing was exceedingly necessary. After spending so much time working on that program for the company and making next to no traction during, it was nice to do something that showed his efforts and rewarded them. Even if it was just simply shopping or cleaning.

He checked his phone, giving it a brief glance for any missed messages, setting the alarm on it for two hours with hopes of getting a short nap in before it got any later then he would be back up to finish his work from the night before.

 

Having fallen asleep on the couch, a more common occurrence these days, he was stretched out comfortably with his phone plugged into the wall and resting on the coffee table beside him. The quiet of the home was disturbed only by the air system shifting as day turned to night, exchanging the temperatures to warm the house before it got any darker or colder. The young man was unaware of the presence that had entered the room, a shadow through the failing light of evening. The looming figure gazing down upon its charge with a long time fondness for the frail being. Trailing a single talon across his cheek, dragging the back of it along his jaw in a tender gesture before shifting the blanket that normally rested neatly folded on the back of the sofa over the blonde’s body. Ensuring he remained warm and asleep for as long as he could. After a fleeting moment of conflict, it turned towards the techie’s phone and slid it’s knuckle across the puzzle design, unlocking the feature to disarm the alarm that was meant to go off in several minutes and resetting it. Quietly, it returned the phone to its place and gave its charge another look, gingerly drawing the blonde locks from its face before retreating back to the bedroom.

 

The blonde remained in his blissful sleep until the next morning when his alarm sounded with a very loud bell like ringing. It vibrated with  rumble across the wood surface of the table, drawing the techie to jolt awake, startled and groggy from the extended rest. His eyes were bleary as he wiped them clear and looked around in confusion. His eyes settling on his phone as he reached out and took it in hand, removing the charging cord to glance at the time. One hand moving up to rub at his weary eyes as he sat up, expecting it to still be evening only to see sunrise was only a few minutes off. His eyes widened as he launched off the couch frantically. “Why the hell didn’t I wake up?” He blurted loudly to himself as he rushed to get ready for work, having to give his face a good slap or two to get the feeling back to his senses. The overextended rest left him fumbling about as he tried to set his coffee pot to run while he showered.

The rest of the day followed with this same frantic fumbling about. It wasn’t exactly a bad day though as he was greeted at work by his usual team. Coffee was a hail mary for his morning and he hit up the break room two more times to fill his mug before the morning even really started. Before noon, he was sitting in front of his supervisor’s desk getting a laundry list of critiques about the latest program and what the higher ups demanded be changed for the nth time that month. Waylon was forced to hold his tongue throughout the berating until he got back to his own department. Dropping the new files onto his desk with a growl. “That man has no idea how long it takes to rewrite an entire program like this. It’s not something as simple as putting this in here and taking that out. It’s all a support that needs a completely new foundation if anything is moved or changed.” He ranted to himself. A habit that many would stare at him for as if he were speaking to someone who wasn’t there. This was a habit the techie had developed at a young age but he had no idea when exactly that it happened or under what circumstances it came about. It just always made him feel better afterwards.

His annoyed mumbling continued as he pieced together a new program design, once more halting the work his team was doing until the new layout was finished. His features twisted into a near permanent scowl at his computer screen that was only relieved when he needed a refill on his caffeine fix. Relaxing his face for the first time in hours with a stubborn grumbling and a few sore blinks. “Why do I keep doing this to myself? Do I really need this job that badly?” Like all the times he’s questioned himself with these same thoughts, he dismissed them with the easiest questions. _Because the company was the only one who would hire him with full benefits and it was tight trying to find jobs in technology outside of the medical field without advanced science degrees or moving across the country._

With that in his mind, he sucked it up and counted down the minutes to when he could finally clock out and head home. Feeling completely worn out by the time he got out, it was already dark and the weather was much colder with the falling night. The drive was long with rush hour traffic but seeing his small suburban home was a relief. Pulling into his driveway, he noticed a light was on in the living room windows, wondering that if maybe in his haste he had left a lamp on or maybe the kitchen light. He sighed, walking up to his door, lugging his laptop bag with him, strewn over his shoulder as he unlocked the door. Moving to hang his keys up by the entryway and shuck off his jacket when he heard a sing song voice rise in greeting. “Welcome home darling!” The techie froze in place, his eyes widening as he looked over at the figure standing in his kitchen, leaning against the counter with his arms open in greeting. That same distorted scarring on the side of his face was in full view with the bright lights of the kitchen shining on the tight pinkish flesh. Those sharp teeth bared in a grin as piercing blue orbs drilled right down into him, hitting the very core of his nightmares.

He dropped his bag and turned out of the house as quickly as possible, racing out to the street with a curse as he realized his keys were still inside. He stood in his driveway, staring at the house from a distance but even that didn’t make him feel comfortable. Moving further down the street with hasty strides as he pulled out his phone and called the one person he knew he could trust. The voice of his best friend coming casually over the speakers as he chimed in. “Hey Way Way! Was just about to ca-”

“Miles! Come over here _right now_! There’s something in my house.” The techie’s voice was shaking and breathy as he struggled to hold in his composure. Moving to the end of his street where the intersection was and watching from a distance. Seeing the shadow shifting in front of the closed windows, the curtains swaying from the movement but never opening. A chill running down his spine as Miles tried to console his friend while hasty sounds clattered in the background. He could hear the journalist rushing to get into his vehicle and the sound of tires squealing.

Waylon remained on the phone the entire time until he saw the iconic red jeep pull onto his street. Stopping to see the petrified techie standing in the shadows of the street sign in the freezing cold. He rolled down his window and called out to the male. “Get your ass in here before you freeze to death.” Waylon couldn’t describe the relief he felt upon seeing the familiar brunette locks and those sharp emerald orbs meeting his shivering form with concern. He tucked himself into the passenger seat as Miles cranked the heat up all the way and pulled up into Waylon’s driveway. He didn’t asked the blonde anything more about what was in the house, just understanding that whatever it was freaked his best friend out and that was enough to get the journalist on his feet and charging right in. Leaving Waylon to warm up inside the jeep.

Waylon was hesitant to let Miles go in alone but refused to go back in there until he was certain it was safe. Watching the shadows of his friend as he walked through the house through the windows. Seeing each light go on in the living room then the office and soon even Waylon’s bedroom at the end of the hallway. He would also assume Miles repeated it for the bathroom. Waylon watched as the shadows moved to the closet and checked every nook and cranny until Miles backtracked out to the driveway and searched the backyard and exterior for any signs of a break in.

After several minutes he returned to the jeep and climbed inside to warm up a bit, turning to see Waylon and giving him a skeptical but concerned look. “There’s nobody inside.” That’s what Waylon was afraid to hear, given the expression Miles was holding, Waylon just turned his head away to look down at his hands, rubbing them together. Not so much to get warm now but to have something, anything else to focus on but the look his best friend was giving him. A softer tone was adopted by the journalist as he continued. “Are you sure you saw somebody Waylon? Maybe it was just a mistake. Maybe..” Miles didn’t say what he wanted to instead leaving it unspoken afraid of upsetting his friend.

“I know what I saw Miles.” His voice held little conviction though as he shook his head and rubbed at his face with his hands. He wanted to hide right now. Wishing he hadn’t called his friend in the first place. “I’m sorry, I dragged you all the way out here for nothing.” He murmured through his hands.

“Nah, it’s fine. Listen, I’ve got nothing going on so why don’t I just spend the night? Take your mind off of everything. Tomorrow is the weekend, you’re not working right?” Miles nudged his friend’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. It was the kind that was infectious and inevitably made the techie feel much better.

Waylon couldn’t deny a look like that and nodded slowly. “Yeah I guess we can make a night of it.”

“Good. You haven’t had dinner yet have you?” Waylon shook his head at that. Miles gave a nod. “Alright then. We’ll head back inside, you can clean up a bit and turn everything off, then we’re heading out to that burger place on main.” There were no ifs, ands or buts about it. Miles was determined to make Waylon feel better and the techie appreciated it. He took another minute to steel himself before both climbed out of the jeep to continue with their night’s plans.


	2. Creepy Crawly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon believes he's safe at Miles' house. He learns a secret that will continue to haunt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I finally got around to doing chapter two. I had been planning this for a while but due to life getting in the way, I kept getting distracted or side tracked. But here it is. 
> 
> Please leave a comment down below on what you think. Thank you!

Miles had Waylon spending the entire night at his place since it was much closer after they had dinner. They went home and spent a few hours playing video games on the journalist’s console until they were both exhausted and inebriated from the brunette’s stock of alcohol. It was nice for Waylon and helped him ignore the issue from earlier that night. He crashed on Miles’ couch, stretched out comfortably, feeling no stress over work or the troubles back at his place. He slept through the night and into the next morning, woken up by the smell of bacon frying in a pan and the pop of toast from a toaster. Miles wasn’t the fanciest cook in the world but he knew how to make it day to day and breakfast was always something he enjoyed going all out for. The journalist always found it simple, easy and good after a hangover. Lots of fats and proteins, stick to your ribs good. Something he felt Waylon needed.

 

There was a low rumbling as the coffee pot worked through the last of the water and finished brewing the deliciously caffeinated fix both men needed so early in the morning. Something of which Waylon shuffled directly towards from the moment he moved from the couch. Brushing his fingers through his messy locks, he felt like he desperately needed a shower but first coffee. A mug was already waiting for him, all he needed was to fill it up, drawing the rim to his lips and taking the first big long sip, releasing a long deep sigh. “Sounds like approval to me.” Miles piped up, drawing a laugh from Waylon as the brunette plated the slices of bacon, still sizzling with the fats and grease onto a platter covered in paper towels. He set them out on the kitchen table and finished plating the rest of their breakfast including a pan of eggs and what Waylon could only assume was half a loaf of bread toasted with how many slices there were. The techie forgets most days about Miles’ higher metabolism and the fact he could probably devour a whole horse and still be skinny and hungry in an hour.

 

“Alright, let’s eat.” He grinned, drawing a few pieces of bacon onto some toast and packing as much scrambled egg as he could with it into an odd sandwich. Waylon just working his way around his plate a little bit at a time. Sipping his coffee in between. He was relieved by the fact Miles didn’t bring up what had happened the night before at all though he felt odd not talking about it either. Like it was the elephant in the room that Miles was far too good at ignoring. Were it a dirty politician or a conspiracy theory, the journalist would be at it like a dog with a bone and refuse to stop chomping and chewing on it. Still, Waylon was hesitant to mention it, afraid of having his friend looking at him strangely.

 

Breakfast went on without any problems, Waylon took over cleaning while Miles stored away every last scrap of food laid out on the table and then became stuck in his chair like a beached whale. One hand rubbing over his belly while he scrolled through his phone going through the latest news feeds and reading emails. “Thanks for doing the dishes Way. You didn’t have to ya know.” The brunette spoke up, his eyes fixed on his phone.

 

The blonde just chuckled, finishing off the plates and working on the grease pan from their bacon. “It’s no big deal Miles. I like cleaning and it’s the least I could do in return for breakfast.”

 

Miles’ emerald eyes turned towards Waylon as an odd smile rested on his lips, caught between laughter and disbelief. “You make it sound like I wouldn’t have fed ya if you didn’t pitch in.” He raised his mug to his lips and swallowed down a few gulps of coffee left at the bottom. “All these years we’ve been together and you still manage to surprise me with how awkward and dorky you can be Way.” He chirped, pushing himself up to his feet and making his way over to the pot for a refill. Stopping to ruffle the blonde’s locks affectionately. “If you want, you can take a shower. You’re starting to look awkward in your own skin.” Miles knew well enough about Waylon’s obsessive cleanliness. He gets a lot of delight some days in prodding at it but he always respected his friends’ habits.

 

He nudged Waylon with his shoulder as he filled his cup and moved over to take his spot in front of the sink. Setting his mug aside and rolling up his sleeves. “Go on and shower Way. I’ll do this.”

 

Waylon was hesitant to give in but thankful nonetheless. Giving a nod of understanding and a dramatic sigh for additional affect before smiling and heading towards his overnight bag. He had collected the basic essentials for a night over at Miles’ place, knowing they would be doing some drinking because that’s just how a night at Miles’ place goes.

 

The shower was well deserved and he shamelessly spent a while in it but he knew the journalist had already been up before him to clean up so he didn’t have to worry about sharing the hot water afterwards. He felt much better coming out and wrapped a towel around his waist. The bathroom at Miles’ place, unlike Waylon’s which was out in the hallway, Miles’ was attached to the only bedroom in the house. He walked into the journalist’s overly cluttered room and dug through his duffel resting on the bed to find his clothes. A simple enough pair of dark jogging sweats, a white t-shirt over his lithe frame and a somewhat baggy light blue sweatshirt over that. It was warm and cozy and perfect for relaxing during cold weather. They didn’t have anything to really do all day long except hang out and watch cheesy comedies and older action movies from Miles’ collection.

 

He sighed once dressed, rubbing the last of the water from his blonde locks, turning towards the bathroom to hang the damp towel up when he bumped into a solid large figure looming in front of him. Waylon’s eyes widened as his attention turned up towards the scarred distorted flesh and sharp toothed smile of greeting. “Morning darling.” The monster purred softly. The techie let loose an immediate scream as he stumbled back and tripped over the cluttered mess that was his friend’s room.

 

There was a clattering sound as the journalist dropped what he was doing and bolted for the bedroom, finding his best friend sitting on the ground staring off at the bathroom door like he’d seen a ghost. He was as white as a sheet and trembling. Miles glanced from Waylon to the inside of the bathroom but saw nothing. He paused, crouching down beside the blonde and touching his shoulder gently. “Waylon? You alright?”

 

Waylon knew Miles hadn’t seen it. _The creature._ He was already gone by the time the journalist got there in the blink of an eye, he was out of sight. Waylon was clutching the towel tightly as he turned his attention towards Miles. Seeing the look his friend was giving him, it was the same look as when they were sitting inside the jeep. It made Waylon’s chest tighten and ache. Made him want to beg Miles not to look at him like that. He cleared his throat and forced a weak smile as he spoke. “There was a huge spider that fell on me from the ceiling when I walked in there.” His voice was shaking but the look Miles gave him at the information was enough to make his smile a little more genuine. The journalist looked around with disgust, his eyes searching for any signs of the fabled arachnid.

 

“I swear to god, if I find it in my bed tonight, I’m making you kill it.” Miles shot back, helping Waylon up to his feet.

 

Waylon sighed and shook his head. “Well, if you’d clean your room, there’d be less places for them to hide.” He pointed out, gaining a scowl from the journalist.

 

“You know, I thought you were being ax murdered. I came running to your rescue and all you have to say is how dirty my room is?” Miles crossed his arms, displaying a pout towards his best friend.

 

Waylon chuckled and gave Miles a light smack with the damp towel. “Yup. I’m going to harp you until my dying breath. That is my mission in life. Giving you grief about cleaning your room.”

 

Miles rolled his eyes playfully and nudged Waylon as he tossed the towel into the clothes hamper inside the bathroom and came back out. “You’re starting to sound like my mother. Have you two been playing pen pals again?”

 

Waylon just shook his head as Miles snaked an arm around his shoulders and started guiding him back out to the living room. Retrieving the fallen bowl that he had been preparing for popcorn when the scare happened. They spent the rest of the day lounging on the couch, going through old movies. Both males stretched out across it at opposite ends, their legs intermingling with a blanket tossed over them and the bowl of popcorn resting in the center. Miles inhaled most of it through the first _Die Hard_ movie and they needed a refill halfway through the second.

 

 

 

The rest of the day was relaxing and uneventful, enough so that Waylon was able to forget about the scare earlier that morning. By afternoon, it was time for Waylon to head home, having extended enough of his stay. He had chores he needed to get done at home before work on Monday. Miles gave him a ride back to his house, offering one last look around just in case he may have missed something the night before then they parted with smiles upon their faces. The house felt quiet an empty, just as Waylon had left it. His laptop case was sitting off to the side still from the night before, he kicked off his shoes and scooped it up by the strap to head to his home office. Setting his computer out on his desk and plugging it in to charge. His attention was turned towards the usual list of household chores. Changing the bedding and preparing for the colder nights to come as he set out his mattress warmer then laid out fresh sheets. It was less of a necessity and more of a need for him to return to a normal head space. The scare had jarred him and simple things like the chores and household necessities was therapeutic enough to help ease his nerves.

 

The quiet of the house helped as he tended to the laundry and ended the afternoon with a brief nap on the couch as he waited for the next cycle. His phone set out on the charger as he stretched out comfortably, his arm tucked behind his head and a hand resting upon his chest. He intended for a soothing nap but the feeling of eyes on him stirred up shadows of unease. The softest breeze of air drifted over his face as he told himself it was just his imagination. It was an old house with it’s own little drafts and disturbances. Then he felt a few strands of hair shift to the side. His body went rigid, a cold sinking feeling filled his chest and his breath caught in his throat. Another touch through his hair, fingers, he could have sworn it was. His rational mind was trying to come up with a million explanations and for once in his life, he was begging the universe that it was simply just a spider crawling on him.

 

He opened his eyes to meet a dreadful sight. Instead of the creeping legs of a formidable arachnid, he saw the blackened tips of claws and past that, a pair of deep blue eyes, bloodshot around the edges and the shadows of scarring across one side of the creature’s face. It’s lips pulled back into a nervous sharp tooth smile of greeting. “Oh, you’re awake.” The voice came slowly, with uncertainty as if Waylon’s consciousness was something the creature wasn’t planning on. Dark images of being devoured in his sleep flashed across the forefront, urged on by his overactive imagination. It was enough fuel for his flight response as he let out a sickening scream and bolted forward away from the creature. His feet were moving faster than his mind as he bolted down the hallway and nearly wiped out on the sharp turn into the bathroom. Grappling the door frame, he lunged inside and slammed the door shut, shaking the frame from the harshness as he slid the lock in place and scrambled back across the floor.

 

His eyes spotted the small crack beneath the door, his paranoia igniting as he pulled a towel from the shelve above the toilet and stuffed it down into the cracks and clambered into the base of the bathtub. His knees tucked up close as his eyes were fixed on the door, wide and terrified. The soft steps outside were muffled by the towel, the gentle knocking of calloused knuckles against the wood followed and that honey sweet voice rumbled out. “Darling, please there is no need to be frightened.” He tried to coax the human out but Waylon shook his head quickly. His hands pressed over his ears when the door frame shook, jostled by a firm grip on the door knob. “Darling-”

 

“Go away!” Waylon cried out, tears stung in his eyes as he curled up even more on himself. He shook his head as voices echoed in the back of his mind. The words of his parents chastising him for making up ludicrous stories about monsters that weren’t there. Memories of his past that he had forgotten so long ago, coming back to the forefront harder than ever, with a fresh new hurt digging in his chest. “You’re not real.” Waylon murmured, echoing the words he told himself so many years ago. Back when he was a small frightened boy, curled up beneath the blankets and begging for morning to come whenever the creature in the corner would come out of the shadows and watch him. A constant presence in his room, terrifying and real. He would feel a hand touch the top of his head through the blanket, a gentle pat of reassurance but to him it was a frightening reminder that the creature was real. That it could touch him with those long sharp claws and gnashing fangs.

 

 

Waylon was huddled up in his spot long after silence had settled. He didn’t dare move from the tub, his head resting against the side until night had fallen and the porcelain fixtures made his skin and much of his body numb from the cold. His head ached and his eyes were puffy as he rubbed at them in frustration. His body was stiff and his legs weak as he crawled to the door, drawing back the towel to peek underneath in search of any sign of the monster. The hallway was clear and the house had resumed it’s silence. He breathed slowly, taking a shaky breath as he mustered the courage to open the door, peeking around each corner and slowly edging his way out. There was no sign of the creature, not of its presence before or after. The bathroom door was a little worse for wear but that was his fault for slamming it so hard. He looked over the hinges and sighed, adding it to the list of things he would need to fix.

 

Waylon continued on with his night, finishing up his laundry and the rest of his chores until long after midnight. The techie was so exhausted that he crawled into bed without dinner, shucked off his clothes and melted into the warmth of freshly laundered bedding still containing the heat from the dryer. He was unaware of the presence that offered him discreet company. The pair of eyes that watched him from the shadows. The creature crawled out of its hiding spot and clambered up along the wall, nails clicking softly as it scaled up over the corners that greeted wall to ceiling and perched upside down from the space above. Hovering just over it’s charge. Those blue eyes glowing in the darkness as the body hunkered down, watching the blonde as he slept, keeping its hands to itself this time lest he wake the techie up and have a repeat of that earlier afternoon. He could remain content with this for now.


	3. Bloody Mary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waylon tries to handle things on his own. It doesn't go as he planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter because I was super motivated and inspired today. 
> 
> Also! Fanart included, inspired by chapter two and created by @the-husbando on tumblr. A super awesome friend and reader and supporter for all of my writing. 
> 
> Please leave a comment down below of what you think of the chapter. Every bit of motivation and feedback helps. ^.^ Thank you! Enjoy!

 

 

It came in the night, a sudden realization. Waylon was determined to prove that he wasn’t crazy, that this creature in fact did exist. He wanted to expose it once and for all, if only so it would finally go away and let him reclaim the peace he had been enjoying for so long. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten rid of it in the first place but he was hoping to find a little bit of help. With a cup of coffee at his side, he pulled his laptop up at his desk and started research. Typing in keywords and details, reading through one forum after another. Some bits and pieces made sense while others were completely ridiculous. After an hour of endless reading, he came to the conclusion that the creature was either a ghost or a demon. Both were relatively close in how they were handled. With some helpful if not somewhat questionable forums, he had gathered together what he had available in his home. He didn’t have a cross of any kind since his family wasn’t religious. He had salt which he spread across the thresholds of his bedroom and office, covering the windowsills and doorways. He quoted scripture from an online bible source that was said to dispel evil spirits and he made holy water and marked all the doors and windows in his home with damp cross lines.

 

He could only sit back and pray it worked. He felt a bit of relief as a weight lifted off of his shoulders, tricking himself into thinking it was working as he carried on with the rest of his day. He worked through the rest of the house but kept a knife from his butcher block close by just in case. He also had his camera on his phone set and ready for use. He read on one forum that spirits can have their photos taken using a camera. That they could be picked up in the shots.

 

Much of the day was quiet, the only sound was the 80’s music playing softly from his laptop adding a bit of nostalgia to his day and making him feel much better. He was humming along, tapping his foot to the beat in idle motion as he worked away on his laptop, tending to a handful of bills that came in and reading through his work email.

 

He was unaware of the presence that lingered behind him until a song ended and silence settled. His playlist paused, requesting him to resume to show he was paying attention but as the quiet reached him, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His hand paused over the mouse on his laptop, fingers hovering as he glanced at the screen, eyes drawing back enough to acknowledge the reflection displaying the hulking shadow behind him. Waylon’s eyes darted over to the side of the desk where the kitchen knife rested. His phone right beside it. He had one chance to grab for them with how close the being was. He swirled his fingers over the mouse in contemplation, hoping not to give away that he acknowledges its presence before his hand darted over for the handle of the knife. Catching it in his grasp, he turned on the creature.

 

Dark blue eyes met the pale frightened orbs, widening in shock as Waylon lunged at him with the knife, slashing outward to make the creature back off. His aim was for an opening to flee, his heart hammering in his chest, soon thundering even harder against his rib cage when the clawed hand grappled for his wrist to control his actions. “Darling no!” The beast rumbled out, claws curling around the handle. Ignoring all rational thought, Waylon fought the monster over it, fearing that it would not only overpower him but will be armed with one more weapon to use against him.

 

In his haste, his hand slipped, the monster pulled the handle away to disarm the human but Waylon’s palm met the blade. It bit deeply into the skin, splitting flesh across his palm and even nicking a few fingers on his other hand when he attempted to push it away. A cry from his lips as he scrambled back, his bloody palm pressing against the salt spread in the threshold, drawing a hiss of pain from his lips as blood trailed across the worn wood floors. The knife was still in the creature’s grasp as it raced into the hallway to see Waylon scramble for the kitchen, the rush of water to clean the salt from the wounds, bleeding profusely. His fears of the creature were abated briefly as concern for his wounds overcame him. He was shaking, cursing under his breath repeatedly as he wrapped the worst of the wound in a towel. It was split far too wide to bandage normally, meaning a trip to the emergency room.

 

He turned around to find his phone and spotted the bloody knife resting on the kitchen counter. The creature was nowhere to be seen. He edged his way down to his office, mindful of the blood leading back and searched the darkest corners for any sign of the monster. With a sigh of relief, he grabbed his phone and hit speed dial, calling up the last number on it to get a tired greeting dragged out. “What’s up Way?”

 

“Hey, you’re not busy right now are you?” Waylon inquired as he found his keys and wallet.

 

“Hm, not really. You need something?” There was a snapping sound and then a long curse from Miles’ lips. He heard a soft beeping in the background and had a feeling Miles was inspecting his beloved camera.

 

Waylon adjusted the towel on his hand, giving it a look and seeing the blood seeping through. The smaller cuts weren’t bleeding as much but still hurt like hell. He balanced his phone on his shoulder as he headed for the front door. “Um, I need a ride to the hospital. I cut my hand open on some broken glass and can’t grip the steering wheel.”

 

“Jesus Christ, you could have started out with that bro.” Miles cursed, there was a loud thunk and shifting, the scraping of a chair, possibly from the kitchen table. Waylon could imagine Miles was in the middle of preparing for a case, his table cluttered in files and other junk. “I’ll be right there. Hold on for five minutes.”

 

Miles was right about the time. The journalist had made record time crossing town to his place. Waylon could just imagine him breaking quite a few traffic laws in the process. Waylon was sitting outside on his front step, hunkered down in his jacket with his hands cradled to his chest. He spotted the jeep careening around the corner in a red blur before screeching to a stop in front of the house. Waylon was on his feet, a bit unsteady from the quick motion before making his way to the passenger door. Miles pushed the door open for him to climb in and cursed even louder as the light blue towel was now mostly a dark reddish brown color, staining Waylon’s fingers through the cloth.

 

It didn’t take very long to get to the hospital as much is it was a long wait to get him checked in. Miles sat by his side as the nurse tended to his injuries, giving the designated status of questioning, asking how he got the injuries. Waylon told her he had been cleaning and dropped a glass when he was putting it away. He was careless and tried to pick it up himself. He offered a small nervous smile, placing blame on his air headed nature and clumsiness. All the while, trying to avoid the sharp look of concern coming from the familiar pair of dark green eyes beside him. Miles’ was in his journalist head space and was scrutinizing every detail of what Waylon had said, taking mental notes for later referral.

 

The nurse cleaned the wounds, sterilized them and placed bandages over them. Several minutes later a doctor came in and asked a brief explanation of what happened, again protocol to corroborate the story and compare to the first telling. Waylon stuck to his story and offered a kind smile, though when the needles came out, he became squeamish and Miles was a big help at keeping him distracted. He had lost enough blood that his hand had felt numb even before the local anesthetic was used but he leaned on his friend’s shoulder and gritted his teeth. He was given an i.v to help and once he was cleared to go, Miles gave him a ride home. He offered to come inside and help him clean up the broken glass but Waylon simply shook his head, apologizing for making his friend spend the entire day with him in an emergency room. The journalist watched as Waylon went inside his house with his hand bandaged up with fresh stitches, entering the darkened building alone. He waited until the light came on in the living room before he started up the jeep and left. 

 

Waylon was anticipating the mess he was returning to, only to find everything had been cleaned up. The knife was rinsed and placed back into the butcher block, the blood on the floor was wiped clean, replaced with the soft scent of cleaning supplies. Even the salt he had spread around was gone, not a grain left behind. The windows were clean, the little damp cross markings were absent from the morning earlier. It was as if the entire day had never happened but Waylon knew it had. His pale blue eyes looked down at the bandages on his hands with a weak trembling sigh. He removed his jacket and shoes, trudging into the house with a lack of appetite. Wanting nothing more then to crawl into bed and that’s exactly what he did. With a sharp sob, his hands resting on either side of him, he buried his face into his pillow to muffle his whimpers. 

 

 

 

 

Waylon attended work the next day, rushing about the house in a tizzy to get ready and get there on time. He had to remember to take a couple painkillers for his hand, swallowing them down with his coffee and tucking them back into his laptop case. Migraines were a common presence for him from the stresses of work each day and the prolonged hours of staring at the bright computer screens and monitors. It left his eyes aching and his brain feeling on the verge of exploding. The day at work was little comfort, even being away from home couldn’t soothe his fears as he had already discovered distance didn’t keep the beast away from him.

 

His frustrations worsened with the bandages on his hand slowing his progress and making him clumsy. He lost count how many times he dropped files and paperwork that was handed to him and he banned mugs from his work space until further notice. Bribing a coworker with a sweet promise to go out for coffee some afternoon on the weekend if she would go during her break and purchase bendy straws for him. He lucked out with the fact she pitied him enough to comply then she upped the ante from coffee to lunch and it was at a more expensive pizza place that he and Miles normally frequent downtown. Feeling like he had no other choice, he gave in if only so he wouldn’t die of thirst or accidentally fry his computer with another spilled cup of coffee.

 

The day couldn’t have ended worse, or at least that’s what Waylon thought until his supervisor called him in for a meeting addressing his lack of progress that day. He sat through yet another berating at his laziness and faltering work ethic, even going so far as to insult the techie’s entire team and his leadership skills. He left the office in a far more sour mood than before, with threats of being fired hitting him in the back on his way out the door. The rational part of him knew better the to take them at face value but it didn’t stop him from delivering a knuckle breaking punch to the staff room wall, hitting the hard tile surface enough to make his hand crack and ignite fire. Leaving him with two, injured and aching hands by the time he walked out of the building.

 

His anger only increased on the drive home as he stewed amidst the rush hour traffic, screaming over the steering wheel at the light and the people who were oblivious of its color change. When he finally walked in the door of his home, he dropped his bag on the table and was half expecting the creature to be standing in the kitchen. A part of him was a little disappointed at its absence since he was reared up and prepared to give the beast a piece of his mind. Instead he was met with a quiet empty house and it remained that way for the rest of the night. 


	4. Broken Lullaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got writers block about half way through this one but I think I'm pretty happy with the outcome. This one gets a little crazy. Enjoy!
> 
> Please leave a comment to tell me what you think.

Waylon didn’t know which was more terrifying. The ever constant lurking figure in the shadows and on the corners of his vision or the now endless silence and emptiness that had abruptly overshadowed his home. It was too sudden. Too soon. He felt his nerves twist up into knotted messes, tugging and pulling on each other until they neared fraying from tension. Constantly searching for anything to be the slightest bit out of place or moved. The slightest hint of the monster’s presence in his absence but there was nothing. He even tried leaving things out and about in the house, hoping the creature will put them back but they remained out of place where he left them. It was maddening as the days went on and he would return home to silence. It had built up to a sudden intensity that had him screaming at the walls and down the halls, crying out in his bedroom. “Show yourself!”

 

“You haven’t tormented me enough? You’re just going to run off like a coward then?” He blurted in the darkness of his bedroom, fingers curled into tight fists. His bandages starting to stain with the small rivulets of blood from the wound on his palm. His nails digging in painfully as his eyes burned with tears of frustration, greeted only with silence once again. He cursed loudly, storming through the house, hoping for a sound other than his own presence but the silence continued.

 

When the weekend came, he was greeted with a knock on his door but it went ignored. He was lying face down in his bed, pillows tucked in around his head to block out the light of mid afternoon. Dark circles were present around his eyes, even worse than before from weariness as he spent many nights void of sleep, waiting for the creature to appear. The slightest noise, rather it was inside or not, would cause him to stir. Eyes wide and searching the darkest corners for a sign. He would get up and pace through the house, checking every single room to the point it became mindless pacing every half hour or so until the sun would rise. His phone had been neglected even, left to die on the nightstand and he had forgotten to eat the last few nights. Lacking both his appetite and desire.

 

The knocking continued, much more frantic and loud, drawing Waylon to get up if he wanted to achieve any form of solace. He shuffled to the front door in just a pair of dark sweatpants, his torso bare to the chill of the morning still clinging to the house. The blinds were drawn shut still from the days before, leaving the place shrouded in a depressing darkness. He slid the bolt on the door free just as the journalist was reaching to rap upon the surface again. Emerald eyes widened in surprise. “Way? You look like shit.” He exclaimed bluntly.

 

“Thanks? What are you doing here Miles?” He reached up and ruffled the blonde strands out of his face, drawing his fingers free, they felt unusually greasy too him. Though his usual urge to immediately shower and change failed to spark as he stepped away from the door to let his friend inside, shoulders slump tiredly.

 

“I’ve been calling you for a couple of days but you haven’t picked up.” Miles spoke, eyes searching the surroundings warily as he walked in and shut the door behind him. Waylon lingered over by the kitchen, slumped back against the countertop in an uncharacteristically lazy posture.

 

Waylon shrugged. “It’s probably dead. Forgot to charge it.” His tone was nonchalant as he trailed Miles’ form as it made swift strides towards the living room windows, drawing the curtains back to shed some light inside. Waylon hissed, squinting his eyes against the brightness, he raised his hands to shield them as he turned away and moved further into the kitchen where some shade remained.

 

“I was worried when you didn’t pick up so I came to check on you.” Miles informed as he turned to find Waylon skulking in the darker part of the kitchen. There were items laying out on the countertop, a few dirty dishes sitting in the sink. All of these were out of place for the OCD blonde. Hell, if Miles had a single dish in his sink at his house, the techie couldn’t control himself around the clutter and would start compulsively cleaning the place. It’s been that way for as long as Miles has known him. “Is something wrong?” He tried to ease into the topic that concerned him most. His normally confidant and firm tone slipping to a softer more sincere level.

 

Waylon averted his gaze and leaned lazily against the refrigerator, his arms folded in front of him. “Not that I can recall.” He raised his hand with a slight wave of the bandages on it. “Aside from this but that’s it.” Miles’ eyes narrowed on the injury before they flitted up to meet the pale blue orbs. Waylon tucked his hand back and dropped his gaze to fix on the discarded keys resting on the countertop, nowhere near their usual dish he kept them in.

 

“You seem a little out of it today.” He pointed out, noting the drained expression on his face. Waylon tensed then gave a halfhearted shrug in response. “Did I wake you up?” Miles added, watching as Waylon gave a slow now.

 

His lips parted to speak, a slight delay in his process. “Yeah.” The techie reached up and rubbed at one of his eyes, nudging the weariness away with his palm. “Work’s been keeping me busy.” He mumbled softly.

 

Miles nodded, humming in understanding. He took a few steps towards the kitchen, his hands tucked into his pant’s pockets, fiddling with the keys to the jeep with a soft jingle. Waylon tensed, jolting slightly at the sound startled. Miles’ jaw tightened as he drank in every detail of his best friend in that moment. He breathed a long sigh before speaking. “I just wanted to check up on you. I have a new case to look into and wanted to make sure you were doing alright before I leave town.”

 

There was another nod from Waylon. “When are you leaving?”

 

“Tonight.” Miles shifted his weight lazily to the side, resting his hip against the side of the counter. His posture comfortable as he gazed at his best friend. “I’ll only be gone a week at most.” He sighed, giving a nonchalant rub to the back of his head, ruffling up the milk chocolate locks.

 

“Stay safe then.” Waylon spoke up, offering a small smile towards his friend. It was a pitiful attempt and so very tired.

 

“I will.” Miles returned, straightening up as he gestured towards the techie. “I better get out of your hair then and let you get some sleep. I’ll text you when I head out, alright?” He spoke as the pair started to head for the front door. Waylon nodded again, giving the journalist a full embrace before parting. Miles’ smile was bright but lilted at the corners with worry. His emerald eyes reflecting the concern for his friend but he didn’t push on the topic.

 

Waylon watched him until he was back inside his jeep and trailed off down the street, giving a wave of goodbye before heading back inside. The bolt slid shut on the door, locking it up as he moved to cover the windows, resuming his sulking form in the dark. He plopped down onto the couch and curled up on his side with a tired sigh, tucking the pillow up against his chest as he closed his eyes, letting the slow tendrils reclaim him, delivering him into strange and unnerving dreams. 

 

Amidst his sleep, it only sunk him deeper and deeper into a world of his own terrors. Spurred on by the howling of the wind as the warm sunny afternoon picked up into an autumn storm. The rain soon creeping in with the thick black clouds blanketing the sky. The gusts picking up and pelting the siding and windows, making tree branches rattle and rack together, the ominous sounds infiltrating his nightmares and adding fuel to the fire.

 

Waylon was returned to that same dark little bedroom of his childhood home, vulnerable and tiny as his frail form balled up beneath the quilts seeking the comfort of being hidden. The branches outside dragging across his window, clattering back and forth like long bony fingers begging to be let in, threatening to shatter it. The roll of thunder was a beastly snarl that quaked the world around him. He whimpered, murmuring to himself the eternal mantra that was burned into his lips from repetition, to the point he needn’t even think about it before his mouth began moving in quick succession to form them.  _ ‘It’s not real. It’s all in your head. It’s not real. It’s all in your head. It’s all in your head Waylon. It’s not real. it-’ _

 

The mantra was broken as his bed shifted with the weight of a form resting on the end of it. The creeping shadows of claws reaching over towards him, barely noticeable through his fabric shield. His eyes squeezed shut as he held his breath, feeling the long curled claws come to rest atop his head. His lungs started to burn as he held completely still, his body stiffened, heart hammering away inside his chest, a loud drum beat resonating within his rib cage. The quilt was ripped away, exposing him to the surrounding chill of the room. A glint of fangs in the darkness and eyes burning like coals from the shadows, reflecting their ominous gaze back on him, hungry and malicious.

 

He tucked his knees up to his chest as his hands covered his head protectively, curling up into as tight of a ball as possible, hoping he could just blink out of existence. His pale blue eyes daring to peek out at the surroundings as the eyes and fangs vanished. He shifted, looking around warily, hoping to find his blanket to resume it’s safety but it had tumbled into the forbidden void of the floor below. Where darkness lurked from beneath the bed and near the threshold of the open closet door. The bed started to shift, jerking back and forth as if something was pushing and pulling. It started to buck and jolt, rocking him back and forth to the point he nearly toppled over the edge. He screamed out in terror, latching onto the bed frame in time to catch himself.

 

A pair of fangs bared themselves within the void, parting in a wide maw prepared to devour him whole as the bed continued to bounce and shift. The thunder rumbled, giving another wretched snarl of disapproval, urging him to give up. A cold chill rushed up over him from behind as icy fingers trailed along his spine. His grip slipped as he twisted to try and kick out at the shadows behind him. He lost his balance, with a strong buck his body was lurched forward towards the eagerly awaiting jaws below. He flailed against the darkness, screaming out for help.

 

“Waylon!” A voice called out to him as he flailed, hands battering out wildly in defense as strong hands gripped his wrists and held them firmly to keep him from injuring himself further. A ghostly howl echoing around him as pale blue orbs widened, clouded and dizzy. His skin was coated in a sheen of sweat and he was as white as a sheet. His complexion holding a sickly tone to it. His eyes looked darker, more sunk in as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Everything felt rushed and spinning, a dizzying haze of lightheaded sensations weaving in and out of his consciousness. His body felt heavy and wayward as if he had been resting on a raft amidst stormy seas. His head throbbed with a painful ache as noises stirred around him.

 

Nothing was making sense to him. The darkness of the room had lessened but only by a fraction. He could make out outlines but nothing seemed familiar. A voice spoke to him, aiding the firm grasp on his wrists as they controlled his movements, pulling him forward and pinning him back onto the ground. A heavy weight pressed against his chest as beady eyes met his own, bright blue pearls glowing like ominous jewels set back against tar pits. “Darling!” The voice barked out with a stern tone, strong and demanding. Waylon’s eyes blurred as another blood curdling scream erupted from his chest, this one was strong enough to make his throat go raw and sore. His chest broke with powerful sobs, nearly overcome by the wickedness of the storm raging outside and the clattering of thick branches against the siding. The wind was a phantom scream that rivaled his own, eerie and whistling through the paneling of the exterior.

 

His vision blurred as tears streamed down the sides of his cheeks, his lips moving faster than his mind could, unintelligible gibberish came forth, flooding from his lips in between harsh rasps and hard coughs, as he was caught between trying to catch his breath, speak and cry all at once. The thunder rolled through the house, shaking the walls and making the wall accessories tremble. It was followed up by a bolt of lightning that turned the darkness into a white out, blinding the blonde in one foul swoop and casting terrifying shadows on the other sides of the curtains. Large looming ghouls lurking along the fringes, prepared to dine upon the fresh meat, captured by the worst of the beasts.

 

“..nggh...die...I…-ah” The words made little sense to the creature at first as Waylon’s mumbling continued, becoming harder and harder for him to understand as Waylon became increasingly upset. His thrashing didn’t cease as he fought against the tight hold. His legs stretching out then folding back up to try and push up off of the floor or against the looming figure. The hulking form was the most frightening of it all as the bleary vision distorted the figure to gruesome proportions against his already confused and addled mind.

 

“Wh-what are you saying darling?” The creature urged, leaning closer to Waylon so he was closer to his mouth to try and make out the words between the sharp gasps and choking.

 

The thunder parted to momentary silence as Waylon whimpered out. “I...don’t wannah -hic- dieh..” He jerked, giving another harsh cough as he struggled with his words. It was painful to hear, feeling the sharp jerks and trembling with every breath. His body jarred by the powerful emotions. “...die...please...I….-hic- noo…” His voice trailed. “...help...heeelp…” He sniffled as his body started to settle, his wild flailing slowly fading out with exhaustion as his head turned to the side and he writhed and squirmed, curling back up more on the floor. His face was a mess of tears and snot, some spittle dripping from the sides of his mouth. His eyes were unfocused still, clouded over and troubled.

 

The creature could only assume its charge was ill. Feverish even. His complexion was unhealthy and his mind was not sound. The precious little boy that used to rest so peacefully once upon a time, now reduced to this. The creature’s grip on Waylon’s wrists slowly started to loosen, one hand moving up to curl long fingers around the bandaged hand, gentle enough not to add to the already darkening stain on the white patches and wrappings. The hands pulled gently, drawing the smaller form up from it’s position on the floor, wedged down between the couch and the coffee table.

 

He had fallen off in the middle of his rest, drawing the creature to emerge in concern for its charge. “Darling, you’re safe. Please listen to me.” The claws gently swiped the techie’s blonde bangs aside, sweat soaked and plastered to his forehead. His bare torso twitching, chest rising and falling in quick huffs as he worked to get air in. “You’re not going to die Waylon. You’re safe. I’m not going to let you die.” He cooed and hushed his charge. He used his shirt sleeve to attempt to clear away some of the mess on the male’s face, wiping at his eyes, not at all bothered by the additional fluids that came from the human.

 

Waylon had gone limp as the creature gathered him up in its arms. Another broken sob fell freely from quivering lips, fingers grasping weakly at the creature’s clothing to push away and yet hold on simultaneously. He continued to mutter about nonsense as his head lolled to the side, resting on the creature’s shoulder, legs drawn closer as he was lifted completely off of the floor and carried to the room down the hallway. The creature continued to coo and hum to it’s human charge, trying to soothe the upset as the total exhaustion and overexertion claimed him. Taking him away before his head even met the pillows of his bed. His body continued to shiver and shake as if wracked by chills. His face was a twisted grimace of pain and distress. An expression that caused sharp pains within the creature’s chest. Long talons gently tucked a few strands out of the male’s face then dropped away as he turned to tend to his duties, something he should have done days ago. 


	5. My Best Friend's Keeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie plays nursemaid and Waylon learns a little more about his unwanted roommate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment down below of what you think about the story. Every bit of feedback is appreciated and motivates me.

The events that transpired were strange, too much to the point that the techie’s feverish mind couldn’t comprehend. The storm continued to rage through the night, drawing fearful whimpers and flinches from the smaller blonde male. The creature loomed over him, a damp cloth in hand as he tended to his charge, wiping at his skin to clear away the sweat and cool the intense heat rising off of him. He shivered and curled up, the heated mattress pad was on, radiating warmth but it couldn’t clear away the imaginary chill residing deep inside him. The dark blue eyes watched quietly, concern in those endless pools. A soft sound entered the air, a beep from the techie’s phone, which the creature had plugged in to charge on the nightstand. Waylon was unfazed by the noise, not even recognizing it’s source but the creature checked anyway encase it was of importance.

 

 

**_Message From: Miles_ **

_‘I’m heading out of town. I’ll be back soon. If you need anything at all, just send me a text. Take care Way.’_

 

 

The creature glanced towards the fragile looking human with a sigh, contemplating rather intervention would be necessary or not. His fingers hovered over the keys in thought before it shook it’s head and typed in a response.

 

 

**_Message Sent: Waylon_ **

_‘Good luck. Stay safe.’_

 

 

The screen went dark and no more messages passed between. The long claws reached out and gently took the blonde’s hand in it’s palm, curling fingers so it’s knuckles dragged gently over the skin in a fond gesture of reassurance. Waylon’s eyes never opened as the feverish dreams continued to torment him through the night. At one point the power failed, leaving them in a state of darkness forcing the creature to crawl beneath the blankets with it’s charge to warm his body where the heating pad failed to. Arms gently tucking the sickly form against its chest and cradling him close.

 

Waylon groaned softly at the contact, giving a slow shifting in conflict before he pressed closer to the immense heat that was the beast before him. His pale blue orbs were clouded and failed to recognize the form through the darkness. “ _...Miles.._ ” He murmured as strong arms wrapped around the human’s waist. The head of damp blonde locks pressed against the creature’s shoulder seeking comfort in what he thought was the secure embrace of an old friend. He wasn’t really wrong in that aspect, but the name was.

 

It plucked at the creatures chest with sadness and disappointment. Of course the human wouldn’t know his real name. To Waylon, he was just another monster in his life. He wouldn’t recognize the little gestures that the creature offered or the actions he carried out throughout the day to make his life less hectic and stressful. The times he would manipulate certain events or situations that would urge his charge to sleep more or to eat better. The little actions that avoided accidents or dangerous situations such as leaving a candle burning or the stove on when he gets side tracked. Turning the porch light on to greet him in the dark when he is late coming home or turning lights on in the living room in the middle of the night to scare off potential burglars lurking through the neighborhood.

 

It was his duty to protect his charge as much as possible. To care for him, even in times like these. Some days though, he goes above and beyond. To some people, his actions would be considered going too far. He tried to make it easier on Waylon. He stepped back to give him a break. To offer the peace and quiet that he desperately desired but he only made things worse. His fingers brushed through the blonde locks in gentle combing motions as the blonde slept a little easier. His pallor was still questionable but he was pleased he was at least getting a long overdue rest.

 

 

 

By the next morning, Waylon awoke to the quiet of the house. The fever still lingered, as was apparent by the red flush and drained state of being. The blinds were open allowing the light to shine into the rooms. The power had returned, the clocks were already set back to their proper times. Waylon pushed himself up to his feet and shuffled his way out of the bedroom to head for the bathroom. Feeling a little bit refreshed and relieved, he hadn’t the energy for a proper shower and settled for washing his face to try and wake up a little bit better and brushing his teeth to rid himself of the sour taste on his tongue.

 

He shuffled out of the bathroom, with his shower robe wrapped around his shoulders, a plush dark green fabric that was soft against his bare torso. The kitchen and living room were cleaned up. The blankets folded and set against the back of the couch. The kitchen counter was clean and cleared up, his items from the day before were placed into their proper spots, his keys included. He flinched when he heard the coffee pot sputtering out the last of its brew, the fresh scent wafting into the air, a pleasant reminder plucking at the caffeinated cravings.

 

“Good morning darling.” A sweet tender voice filtered into the room as Waylon moved around the counter to the pot. He paused, looking back towards the living room to spot the ominous figure seated comfortably on the couch. The scarring on the right side of his face was even more noticeable against the bright rays of the early Sunday morning sun. Thick and calloused in glossy layers over the once pristine flesh, a distorted contrast to the untouched left side. The newspaper was already sitting on the coffee table for that morning, awaiting Waylon’s curious glances.

 

The techie paused in his motions amidst reaching for a coffee mug, his eyes were downcast and shoulders slumped in defeat. He hung his head with a sigh and slowly shook it as he continued to get his mug. Not having the energy to fend off the creature or even run, he was certain it would cross the room and be on him before he could even leave the kitchen. “Do whatever you want with me. I’m not going to run anymore.” He breathed, dropping some sugar into the bottom of the cup and pouring out the fresh black brew, letting the vapors rise up to greet his nostrils. “I only ask that you at least wait until I’ve had my coffee.”

 

The creature’s lips drew up into a small smile as it nodded, leaning back against the cushions of the couch. A clawed hand gestured out, blackened talons glinting like ebony daggers in the light. “Certainly darling. Take all the time you like.” The hands returned to rest in the creature’s lap, one leg crossing over the other with gentlemanly elegance.

 

Waylon nodded slowly as he raised the mug to his lips, blowing on the surface to cool the first sip, rolling over his tongue and spreading it’s comforting warmth throughout his body. It was the only positive feeling his fragile sickly form was currently harboring. His body ached with combined protests against every motion and actions. His legs were already starting to tremble and give from weakness as he shuffled lazily across the wood floors to plop down onto the couch, opposite end of the creature. He leaned against the arm of it, propping his head up with a groan as he took another much longer sip of the dark brew before setting the cup aside. He sniffled and drew his legs up underneath himself with a pitiful sound. The robe offering only the smallest bit of comfort against the morning chill.

 

“Darling, you should be in bed.” The voice offered, drawing the weary pale orbs of the techie to gaze up at the concerned pools of the creature’s. There was no malice or ill intent. They were drooping and forlorn, the emotions written across them, a solicitous expression creasing the distorted features into something that was worthy commiseration from Waylon’s side of things. To think something he had done could cause such a look, it was hard to fathom. Certainly not when it was from the appearance of a monster, in every sense of the word. Or, maybe he was wrong. He was still alive after all, especially with so many interactions. He thought for certain it would have made use of his carcass by now.

 

Waylon met the words with a shrug as he reached out and took the mug back from the coffee table, clutching it between both hands to ensure he wouldn’t drop it. His hand ached whenever he attempted to grasp anything on it’s own, forcing him to prematurely release objects before he was ready. Using both hands lessened that need. He worked through most of his drink before setting it back down on the coffee table and resumed his curled up position. His head rested in his palm, propped up on his elbow and against the arm of the couch. The creature watched quietly as his charge’s eyes slowly slipped shut and his body sagged. The slow rise and fall of his breathes in his chest, the soft flow of air past a raw throat. The creature shifted ever so gently to rise to his feet and pulled the blanket from the back of the couch to drape over the male. He gingerly caressed his cheek and took the cup to be washed out and taken care of.

 

The doting actions didn’t stop there. When Waylon woke up, it was mid afternoon and the curtains had been closed enough to give him shade. He had been hunkered down into the cushions with the blanket firmly wrapped around him to offer some reprieve from the cold. He made a soft sound and was greeted with a somewhat terrifying sight as a dark shadow crept slowly in his peripheral vision. Not from the side or the corners, no, this lurking shadow was attached to the ceiling. Long talons grappling into the ceiling like hooks, keeping the stretched out figure in place as it rested like some sort of arachnid or lizard.

 

He couldn’t stifle the sharp yelp that left his throat, making him jolt back into the cushions, sitting upright with wide eyes. The sound startled the creature, causing him to lose his grip and drop to the floor below. He twisted quickly enough to catch himself in a feline like crouch. He straightened up, dark blue eyes searching the room for an intruder when he realized the fright was caused by his own appearance. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry darling.” He offered in sincere apology as he flattened out the ruffles and creased in his clothing before the claws combed through the dark wayward strands of raven locks to return them to their smooth, slicked back appearance. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

 

“Wh-what were you doing up there?” Waylon finally managed after a minute to collect his wits and calm his thundering heart. His body was tense, still on edge and prepared to flee but he forced himself to remain in place.

 

The creature looked up to the ceiling as the blonde gestured then back towards the human. The first display of a sheepish expression stretched across the scarred features. “Oh, I was uh, well I was watching over you but it appears I um, fell asleep. It was so quiet darling, and you looked so peaceful, I let myself slip off.”

 

Waylon eyed the creature cautiously before giving a slow nod. “So you sleep upside down, like a bat?” He pointed out.

 

“Yes, well, no. It’s complicated darling.” He huffed a sigh, crossing an arm over his chest as his hand cupped his own cheek, pressing claws gently over the scars. “I don’t normally sleep like that. I sleep like you do. But when the job calls for it, sometimes I can’t be picky about the places I choose to hide. Human’s have a terrible habit of never looking up.” He explained.

 

“I see.” Waylon hummed in thought, rolling this bit of information around before he parted his lips to speak then paused. “Um, I don’t know your name. Do you even have one?”

 

The creature almost looked offended at that question, giving an appalled look. A bit of hurt in his eyes as he gestured to himself. “Of course I have a name. Everyone has a name darling.” He pouted. “My name is Eddie.”

 

“I’d say it's a pleasure to properly meet you but given our past history, you’d know I’m lying.” He said awkwardly, shifting the blanket around from his front to drape over his shoulders and ride up a little to his head like a makeshift shawl.

 

The creature, Eddie, moved towards his charge with a hand held out, offering a smile. “Come on. You should be resting in bed.” He murmured as Waylon contemplated the hand, looking over the long hooked talons. He raised his own and hesitantly let it rest in the larger palm. The fingers curled around them with care and drew him up to his feet. The hand moved to Waylon’s mid back to help guide him on weakened legs towards the end of the hallway.

 

“Why do you care?” Waylon asked as they passed the bathroom and his home office. He took the lead into the bedroom since they could only pass through the doorway one at a time. Especially with the creature’s massive size. The hand never left his back though as he made his way towards the bed to crawl beneath the covers. He never even removed the robe or the blanket on his shoulders, seeking every bit of warmth he could.

 

Eddie offered a larger smile, much more genuine and almost proud. His eyes glinting with something that Waylon couldn’t make out as a smooth silky voice drifted out. “It’s my purpose darling.” He purred, moving the thicker quilts to rest over Waylon’s torso. He moved the pillows around according to get his charge comfortable. “Now get some rest.” A gentle pat on the head followed as the mess of locks were ruffled. The figure retreated back to the hall, stopping in the threshold long enough to ensure the blonde was going to get some more sleep before leaving him in peace.


	6. Monster In Your Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sort of necessary to build up for the next set up. Plus it will help answer a few questions some have had about Eddie and what he is. More will be addressed in future chapters so don't worry. If you have questions, feel free to ask down below. Comments are always welcome and appreciated as well.

The week went by without any more notable incidents. Eddie took care of Waylon for the rest of the weekend, tending to the sickly techie but by Monday morning, healthy or not, Waylon forced himself to his feet and out the door for work. Troubled by this, the creature followed him to his job, giving Waylon quite the surprise when he walked into his office and was greeted by the familiar bulk looming in the corner near the filing cabinet. Eddie sat himself in the corner and fussed over him occasionally throughout the day. Telling Waylon at times when he needed to take a break, even if it was something as simple as getting up and walked down to the staff lounge for a refill of coffee. Anything to get the techie up and moving around instead of slumped over his desk looking on the verge of unconsciousness.

 

Eddie would accompany him on his walks down to the lounge and it was sometimes disturbing since the creature would crawl across the walls and ceiling so as not to bump into anyone in the hallways. Apparently, from how Eddie explained it, he was invisible to others unless he wanted to be seen, but he still took up physical space and could be run into or felt by other humans. Which made perfect sense to Waylon, in a very odd sort of way.

 

Waylon had to make Eddie stay in the office or out in the hallway when his supervisor called him in for another lecture and berating. This was the middle of the week and the male was still struggling with his sickness. He was run through the ringer for not answering his emails over the weekend in a timely fashion and once again, his masculinity and work ethic were put on trial for being minuscule and border on non-existent. He didn’t even have the energy to be mad at this point. He sat there and took it, sulking out the door and back towards his office afterwards, wanting to curl up and disappear. Eddie tried to console him the best he could, but there was little interaction that was accepted by Waylon in this state.

 

The only change to Waylon’s demeanor came when he received the text from Miles, saying he was on his way back to Denver and wanted to meet up for lunch later that afternoon. Waylon was counting down the hours and minutes until his lunch break. Brimming with excitement to see his best friend again. He was still lagging on his energy but this was a good morale boost for the techie. Especially with two more days of work left in the week.

 

They met up at their usual haunt, a nice pizzeria with the best brick oven pies in Denver. They were a little bit expensive compared to their usual burger joints or steak houses but the pizza was fantastic and they never left dissatisfied or hungry. They were pretty regular there to the point that when they showed up, they took their usual corner booth and the waitress already knew their orders and would have their drinks at the table on the first trip over. It was familiar and cozy with the warmth of the ovens in the back and the orange light ambiance. It was definitely the kind of place you’d take somebody on a date but Miles and Waylon had been coming here since high school. Friday nights were their sort of date night. Stop by, get a pizza and head home to play video games and procrastinate studying. It almost felt like home.

 

When Waylon got there, Miles was already sitting in the booth, sipping at his drink. The waitress greeted him at the table with his own glass sitting in his spot. He shucked off his jacket and offered a smile towards the girl then slid into the booth. Eddie resumed his position clinging to the ceiling above, watching over the pair quietly. He recognized the dark haired journalist from the times he came to the techie’s rescue as well as many nights spent over at Waylon’s house. The pair was inseparable though Waylon spent more time at Miles’ place then Miles had ever been at Waylon’s.

 

The pair continued on with their conversation, sipping at their drinks in between. Miles regaled Waylon with the tales of this latest case he had been working on. It went by a lot smoother then he anticipated and the work was pretty easy. Some points had Waylon in a fit of laughter so badly he was having trouble catching his breath and Miles’ lips were pulled back in the biggest smirk as he continued his story just to see how far he could push Waylon, resulting in the techie wiping the damp streams from his cheeks and begging Miles to stop between gasps. Both seemed to easily slip into the mold of friendship they had formed over the years. They bantered back and forth over the pizza when it came and gorged themselves to the point they didn’t want to move.

 

Eddie had been keeping an eye on Waylon throughout the interaction and hung down from the ceiling to give the techie a gentle pat on the shoulder so he wouldn’t spook him. It didn’t seem to work the way Eddie had intended as a sudden jolt rose from the techie before he recognized the voice in his ear. “You should be getting back to work soon darling or else you’ll be late.” He purred. Waylon sighed and nodded, giving Miles a small smile as he informed his friend of his lessening time. Miles smiled and nodded as Waylon got up to head to the restroom before they left. Leaving his phone out on the table. Eddie lingered a moment before trailing behind Waylon to keep up with him and possibly speak privately.

 

In Waylon’s absence, Miles reached over to take up the phone, inspecting it quietly as he dismantled the back of it placing a small chip like device into the inside cover. He noted that Waylon rarely ever opened the back of the device with the lack of scratches and wear on the edges. He put it back into the protective case and sat if back on the table. Placing a headphone in one ear, he activated an app on his phone and was able to hear everything around him through the little headphone, telling him the chip was working. Powered by the phone itself, he often used these to eavesdrop and gather intel on subjects.

 

He never thought he would be turning one of these on his own friend but his worries over the dorky blonde were only increasing. Despite the wide smiles and laughter, Miles could tell there was something else going on that Waylon wasn’t talking about. He looked run down and out of it. He would space out at times or jolt suddenly as if spooked. It was uncomfortable watching these instances and not know what was causing them. With the events of the last couple weeks, he was becoming increasingly worried about his best friend and he wouldn’t be a good friend if he just let it keep going on without bringing it up. He knew that Waylon disliked the topic. The look on his face when Miles so much as hinted concern for his well being was heartbreaking. It felt like a slight in betrayal but Miles didn’t know what else to do. This was what he was good at and with a bit of hope, it would bare fruit to ease his friend or persuade him to seek more professional assistance.

 

When Waylon returned to the table, Miles was getting up and fixing his jacket. His card was sitting on a small tray with the receipt, already signed off and paid for. They collected their things and Miles gave Waylon a ride back to his workplace. They parted with a hug and went their separate ways for the day. That didn’t stop Waylon from texting Miles occasionally to complain about work or ask questions about certain instances that popped up in the news lately and if the journalist had any information on it. Miles was Waylon’s place for insider information when it came to the world news.

 

At home, Waylon would go about his usual routine, only now it was with less fear and more idle conversation with Eddie. They would talk about the day and go back and forth over it. Eddie would remind Waylon in the evening to have dinner, something the techie had been forgetting to do the last couple weeks. “Hey Eddie?”

 

“Yes darling?” Eddie murmured as he sat at the counter flipping through a magazine Waylon had gotten in the mail earlier that day. It was one of the rare times his charge got something that wasn’t technology related. This was actually a very normal magazine, mostly sporting fashion. The subscription was a free issue and Waylon signed up for it to read over some of the stories features throughout by celebrities. Miles had written a couple of them when he was looking into some sketchy business in Hollywood and outed a couple sleazebags for harassment towards their employees and the actresses that worked under them. Waylon had a couple other gossip subscriptions, all simply for the fact so he could have a copy of the pieces Miles has written up. Lately he doesn’t do anything with them since all of the journalist’s work has been going to broadcast news stations or online reporter columns. Big name companies and publishers like New York times and a few others kept the journalist in their side pocket for juicy pieces that compelled the masses to rise up against the social injustices.

 

Waylon was stirring up some vegetables in a pan, letting them cook down before adding some tender chicken, cut up into chunks. It was already precooked, he just had to add it in with the rest. “Do you eat like people do?” Waylon asked.

 

Eddie flipped through a page, eyeing a handful of gowns shown on the red carpet lately. He sighed and looked up at Waylon with a small smile. “I can eat, but if you mean do I have to eat to survive, the answer is no. I don’t really need to in this world. Back home, I do.” He explained. “Why do you ask?”

 

Waylon shrugged as he tended to the pan, stirring the ingredients around to get thoroughly cooked. “I was just curious is all.” He shrugged and moved over to get a plate from the cupboard. “I was wondering too, about you crawling across the ceiling all the time. You know I can see you, so there’s no point in doing it right?” He pointed out flatly as he turned off the burner and dished out his dinner onto the plate.

 

“Old habits die hard I’m afraid. I’m so used to you not seeing me at all.” He sighed and turned the next page of the magazine then decided he had enough with the content. All the dresses and gowns were starting to look the same to him.

 

“What do you mean? You make it sound like you’ve always been there.”

 

“That’s because I was darling. I’ve been here pretty much your whole life. Occasionally I return home to my side but there isn’t a day where I’m not watching over you.” He sat up at the counter and watched as Waylon shifted the bar stool over so they could sit side by side.

 

“That’s kind of creepy.” Waylon stated blankly.

 

Eddie chuckled. “Don’t worry darling. Most of the time I never leave the house except on the rare occasion when I sense trouble around you. I like to pop in and check on you.” He rested his hands on the countertop, fussing with the magazine pages beneath them. His features looked tired today, worn out even. Almost as badly as Waylon’s. “When you were off at school, I’d return to my home to rest. I knew you could take care of yourself. Besides, I could trust Miles to have your safety in mind.”

 

“Do you miss going home?” Waylon asked after a long pause. Realizing he was probably keeping Eddie here with him. He had always assumed Eddie just sort of lived with him but now it made more sense that he would have a life all his own. This was more like a job to him.  _ A purpose.  _ That’s what Eddie had called it.

 

“I do at times. Its nice to decompress after a while.” He hummed and moved to rest his head against Waylon’s shoulder dramatically as his lips pulled up into a smile. “But you’re just as much of a home to me as that place Waylon.” His long talon’s teased at the techie’s chin as it was gently lifted up. “So don’t fret about me. My presence here is my choice.”

 

Waylon nodded slowly in understanding, his mouth quirking up into a small smile. “Alright. Thank you.” He murmured.

 

“Now eat before it gets cold.” Eddie prodded, giving Waylon’s stomach a gentle poke, mindful of his talons in the process. He sat upright and slipped off the stool to stretch his arms above his head with a yawn, flashing his sharp teeth in the process. “You’re not back to a hundred percent yet darling, so don’t overwork yourself.” He chastised.

 

Waylon rolled his eyes and took a big mouthful of chicken and peppers, jolting suddenly as his phone started ringing in his pocket. He swallowed it down as he fished the device out and saw it was Miles on the other end. “What’s up?” His tone was carefree and relaxed as he and Miles slipped into casual conversation.

 

“Hey Way, I was thinking since I’m back, if you’re free this weekend? There’s a new digital place opening up at the mall and I was thinking of getting a new camera to update my old one. Was wondering if you wanted to tag along to check it out?” He asked, the soft clicking of tapes changing over as Miles fiddled with the mentioned camera.

 

Waylon took much smaller bites as they talked, so as not to be caught off guard while eating. “You’re actually going to give up your old camera?” Waylon was blown away. Miles had been carrying the same camcorder since their senior year of high school. It was a birthday present for him and that thing documented so many of their antics and shenanigans. To think Miles was ready to retire the old device, it was a wonder the world wasn’t coming to an end.

 

“Sure, I’d love to. Might be able to find something interesting while I’m there.” He chipped in after another bit. His voice slightly muffled.

 

“Awesome.” Miles perked up, there was a clatter on the other end that sounded like something toppling over. A curse hissed past Miles’ lips as he scrambled to pick up the fallen objects. His voice was a bit louder and the sounds in the room easier to hear, signalling that he was on speaker phone. “So, uh, what were you up to when I call? Hope I wasn’t bother ya in the middle of work.”

 

“Not at all. Just sat down for dinner.” Waylon teased. “Just me, myself and I. Well, now you so I guess this counts you as a one sided dinner companion.” There was a laugh on the other end as Miles set the items back on the tabletop.

 

“Sorry bout that. I’ll let you get back to your meal Way. I’ll be seeing you then. I’ll text you the times for Saturday, alright?”

 

“Sure thing.” There was another hiss from Miles’ end then the phone clicked to end the call. Waylon chuckled and set his phone off to the side. Eddie was lurking behind him, listening quietly to the interaction. He lingered, giving Waylon soft nudges from time to time. Waylon rolled his eyes as he spoke up. “Are you the one behind all those weird creepy crawly sensations I get?”

 

“Hm? Maybe. Did it feel something like this?” Eddie asked in amusement as he gently ghosted his palm across Waylon’s blonde locks, the edges starting to curl as they grew to an unruly length. “You need a haircut darling.” He murmured. “Usually if I play with them enough, you go out and get one.”

 

“That’s because I was getting annoyed with the weird touchy feelings. It gave me the creeps.” He huffed before finishing up his meal. He got up to clean off the plate in the sink and scrubbed down the pan. “What else have you been up to that I don’t know about?”


	7. What Darkness Keeps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rollercoaster of life is a bumpy ride for our favorite Techie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains very sensitive topics such as suicide and mentions of bullying. Please, if you have problems dealing with these kinds of topics, I believe it would be unwise to continue. 
> 
> If you have any questions or feedback, feel free to comment down below.

Waylon was excited when Saturday came about and he waited for Miles to come over. They were carpooling over since they planned to do quite a bit of running around in the day. Heading over early enough to beat the rush of traffic and hopefully before anything good was picked over. Eddie tagged along, a cross between curious and concerned for the techie. He didn’t doubt Miles’ ability to protect Waylon, but his charge wasn’t being very honest with his friend about his physical well being. Especially since he was still shaking off the lingering tendrils of sickness.

 

He just couldn’t quite kick that last little bit and it would come back and drag him down around evening. His restless nature would revive him around two or three in the morning and have him back to work in his office. Despite Eddie’s protests and chastisement. They would bicker back and forth for an hour or so before Eddie would give in and just linger, nestled against the ceiling and watching over Waylon as his fingers danced across the keyboard in quiet clicks.

 

The ride with Miles was far from quiet as the journalist turned up his playlist and the pair jammed out to rock bands from the 70’s, singing along obscenely to each piece. All in all, they weren’t terrible but they weren’t exactly a pair of choir boys either. Eddie was able to endure the whole twenty minutes of this and after a bit had even began to sing along quietly in the backseat. It wasn’t his first time being present during these kinds of shenanigans but it had been a long time since they had last done it. Waylon looked genuinely happy and Miles had a large smirk spread across his face as he drummed on the steering wheel at the red light. By the time they reached the mall, the pair were all geeked up with energy.

 

They went straight to the new store, Miles roaming through the section in search of a camera that could rival his old one, even bringing his own along for reference. Waylon had split away from Miles to look for a few pieces for his laptop, needing a new mouse since his old one had been worn away and a replacement battery. He feared his was running down faster and faster as time went on. Eddie followed the techie over to the aisle as they looked through headsets and mouses. Waylon having trouble deciding which style and color to choose and Eddie giving a bit of designer advice which was surprisingly helpful. Waylon tried out a couple different ones, feeling them through the package to figure out which one fit his hand the best and made for easy usage. In the end it came down to one with silver accents and a black body, it had a bright blue light when plugged in. The second had a silver body with black accents and a apocalypse green light when plugged in. “I don’t know which one to get.” He mused, holding one in each hand as he inspected each with indecision.

 

“Darling, it’s just a mouse. I’m sure whichever you choose, it won’t be that big of a deal.” Eddie explained, not really seeing why these little details mattered, sometimes forgetting the obsessive compulsive nature of his charge. Having lived with it for thirty years, he had just grown used to the quirks and oddities of the techie. “What color is your laptop?” He inquired after a bit.

 

Waylon paused and thought over it. “It’s got a black body and a silver exterior.” He said flatly, trying to see why that had anything to do with it.

 

“What color are the lights on it when it’s working in the dark or plugged in?” Eddie asked, urging Waylon along to the answer.

 

“Well, blu- oh! Okay.” He sighed and shook his head, putting the green light mouse back and turning his attention towards the headsets. Once again, he was looking for one that would better fit him, aiming for something that could be plugged into his laptop or use bluetooth. He ran into another instance of indecision and turned to Eddie for a second opinion.

 

All the while unaware of the journalist watching the entire scene play out as Waylon turned periodically to the empty space beside him and carried on a full conversation with the absence as if there were a person. He even had his head tilted upwards at a slight angle as if meeting that invisible being’s gaze. He seemed relaxed during the exchange as if this were a normal and common occurrence. He watched as Waylon held out two different items to the figure, glancing down at them as if deciding which of the items to purchase. He would look at the one chosen and talk about it for a moment then put the other back on the shelf, tucking them under his arm with the mouse and started down the aisle to the next to look over laptop batteries.

 

When they turned the corner for that aisle, Miles started walking towards them with his camcorder still in hand. “Hey, Way.” Miles called, gaining a startled jolt from his friend and a slightly nervous expression before Waylon greeted him with a smile. “Find anything?” The journalist inquired, glancing over the items the techie had in hand.

 

Waylon nodded in affirmation and held them up to show Miles what he found. “Any luck with another camera?” The blonde questioned, taking note of the older one and the lack of any new equipment in Miles’ hands.

 

Miles shrugged and scratched at the back of his neck before shoving a hand into his jean pocket. “Not really. Guess it’ll be me and this old girl a while longer. These new gens can’t seem to compete with a classic.”

 

“More like you just can’t give her up.” Waylon mused with a smirk. “Too sentimental about the old days, eh?”

 

“You know me Way. Guilty as charged.” He chuckled and held his camcorder up. “I guess I don’t want to let go of the past. Feels like a betrayal after all the good times we had.” Miles set it back down and nodded towards Waylon. “Find everything?”

 

Waylon sighed, giving a nod as he contemplated what he was looking for, glancing back at Miles for a moment before he seemed to make his decision. “Yeah, I think so. I can get a new battery another day.” He held up his items to show off to the journalist as they continued to chatter on about the old days and the times they used to play online games and wore the hell out of their mouses in the process. They continued to chat through the checkout lane and as they headed to a couple other stores in the mall. Stopping at one place that made specialty popcorn with all sorts of colorful flavors. They stopped at a bookstore, contemplating a few options before ending the day with a trip to a cold stone ice cream parlor.

 

Eddie trailed along behind them as they snacked on their sweet treats and tried a bit of each others to see how it tasted. Some could easily mistake the pair as being on a date but Eddie had been around the two long enough to know they were more like brothers than anything else. Waylon had always been the quiet geeky kid since elementary school and was often bullied, coming home in tears over some abuse or upset that occurred on the playground or in the hallways at school. It wasn’t until Miles moved to Denver from D.C with his family and started at his school that things started to change. On the first day the journalist to be was present, he stepped up in Waylon’s defense when he was cornered by a bully and since had become a sort of guardian for the small blonde. Waylon had learned to defend himself with Miles encouragement but he remained the small meek little boy.

 

Which was fine in Miles opinion. He was a star athlete in middle school, urging Waylon to join him on the track. The pair would race often, Miles was always ahead of Waylon in that aspect but he never went very far from his friend. To Waylon, Miles had all the potential to really make something of himself and the boy often question if he was dragging his best friend down or holding him back. Miles was the one who encouraged Waylon when he started showing promise and talent in technology in their freshman year. The journalist had his sights on writing for his career and scored a seat on the school newspaper. Back in the day Waylon was always cheering him on from the sidelines and now he got to write about his best friend’s exploits as he rose to the top in county and even statewide robotics competitions.

 

But no matter where their lives took them, rather Miles was out traveling the country or to foreign lands seeking truth and to bring down social injustices both foreign and domestic, he always made sure to come back to Waylon. They would spend all their time in between Miles’ cases together, enjoying these little moments while they could. The brief days that made them nostalgic, singing songs from back in their youth and just having fun. They were getting on in their lives but they never let their past be forgotten or the future tear them apart. It’s what made Eddie admire them so much and often times, he found he yearned for that same relationship with Waylon. After all, he had been by his side the longest but he knew better then to expect such events to occur in this lifetime.

 

He would inevitably outlive Waylon, his charge will die and he will be reassigned as a new life enters the world. Just as the last had done. Each lifetime felt familiar to him, every passing of another charge. He couldn’t help but think these souls were actually the passing of one in particular, exchanging physical forms but the history was still written deep down inside the spirit. At least, that was something he could only hope for. Many of the others from his world had caught onto this trend and this belief was a common one. If only to soothe the pain of their losses, they see these consistencies, mustering it in their hearts that this was their same beloved charge. Instead of it being so many losses in a single lifetime. It made it a little more bearable that way and they looked forward to the next one.

 

The weekend went by smoothly after that. Waylon carried on with his usual routine of cleaning and running errands on Sunday. He returned to his work that afternoon and was surprised to find his inbox was empty for once. It was a rare chance but not entirely unheard of. He’s had times when work has come to a stop for a bit as the supervisors and heads of the department reevaluate the project. He was already anticipating more changes come Monday which would put them even further behind schedule. That was for another day though and he took the time to relax and rest up. He ordered take-out and spent the night curled up on the couch watching a few movies while Eddie clung to the ceiling watching over him. Waylon had to tell the creature to come down from there since the continuous shifting and lurking shadows in his peripheral vision were making him nervous, half expecting something to drop down on him and devour him on the spot.

 

 

 

Come Monday morning, Waylon was in a far better mood. Finally getting rid of the lingering dredges of his sickness, he was much more energetic and perked up. Eddie decided to stay home since his charge was doing fine and left him to his usual duties. The techie had no sooner clocked in and sat down at his desk when he received an email summoning him to his supervisor’s office. He sighed, running his fingers through his blonde locks, already anticipating another berating by the man as he pushed himself to his feet and trudged down. It half felt like someone should be calling out ‘ _Dead man walking!_ ’ from the other offices as he passed, the place was unusually quiet. There were eyes following him as he went, giving him a tight gut wrenching feeling like everyone else knew something he didn’t. When he would direct his gaze towards them, everyone would look away and continue with their work.

 

He knocked on the door and was greeted with a sharp bark, demanding he enter. The techie was already feeling the depths of his anxiety at this point as he made his way to the seat in front of the desk but the man held up a hand in pause. Adjusting his suit with all the air of a prissy feline, he narrowed his eyes on the techie and flashed a devilish smirk of satisfaction. “Well, well Mr. Park.” The man sneered. “It seems the higher ups have taken my reports on your productivity into consideration.” Waylon felt nauseous as those words slid off the lips of a pit viper. Venomous and malicious. “Pack your things and get the hell out of here Mr. Park. You’re no longer an employee here.”

 

Waylon was shocked, his body frozen in place as he stared down at the smug expression on his supervisor’s face. The man leaned forward and informed the building security of Waylon’s departure and gave him twenty minutes to gather his things and leave before the police get involved. He was on autopilot as he was flanked on both sides by security, guided back to his office as they watched everything he packed away, stopping him before he could leave to scrutinize every piece in his possession and making a rather dramatic display in front of all of his coworkers. This was not protocol but a personal order from his supervisor to make him as miserable as possible upon exiting.

 

Eddie could sense his charge’s distress but was unable to locate Waylon to run to his aid, sensing that he was out and about but nowhere near a building. He was left pacing around the house for hours as the day went on, attempting to track Waylon down but to no avail. It was reaching into the late hours of evening when he finally came home. About the same time he normally would from work, Eddie waited at the entrance for his charge to enter the house but Waylon remained sitting out in the garage for a long time. The creature glanced out the window and noticed the garage door was shut and the soft hum of the car engine was still going. His eyes widened as he jolted from his place and rushed for the adjoining door leading out to the garage.

 

Waylon was slumped over the steering wheel, his hands still gripping as the vehicle continued to run, the smell of the engine burning up on idle stung the nostrils and the air was hard to breath. For Eddie, it wasn’t a problem but he knew immediately what was going on. “Darling!” Eddie cried out, rushing over to the car, he was relieved to see that Waylon hadn’t bothered with the locks, wrapping his strong arms around the male, he turned the vehicle off and pulled the techie out of the car, carrying him into the house and shutting the door to keep the gas out. He laid him down on the kitchen floor, caressing the sides of the techie’s face and feeling around for a pulse. The rise and fall of his chest was painfully slow and he was starting to turn a soft shade of blue as his body struggled to bring in oxygen.

 

“Darling, come on. Please wake up. Waylon!” He pleaded, giving a gentle pat to Waylon’s face to try and make him stir. Waylon’s body shuddered and jerked as it started rejecting other bodily processes. Eddie quickly rearranged Waylon so he was leaning over on his side to expel the contents of his stomach without being subject to further suffocation. He rubbed his back in careful circles to help ease the rest up and left him lying on his side as he rushed back out to Waylon’s car to retrieve his phone. He dialed the number for emergency services but left it unanswered. Setting the phone down beside him, he made pots and pans clatter together to get the operator’s attention. A groan from Waylon could be heard over the phone before it was hung up. Human’s couldn’t hear him anyway which infuriated him but he had another pawn to play. Eddie pulled up Miles’ texts and sent a quick message.

 

 

**_Sent From: Waylon_ **

 

_‘Help! Emergency. Can’t breath.’_

 

 

It only took a moment for the journalist to respond back.

 

 

**_Sent From: Miles_ **

 

_‘On my way. Hold on.’_

 

 

Eddie could hear distant sirens sounding off but they were still so far away. Waylon’s face was growing a more prominent shade of blue and his chest wasn’t moving anymore. “Waylon, stay with me. Please darling.” He murmured, his talons gently sliding through the unruly blonde locks. Tear tracks trailed down over the glossy layers of scarring on the creature’s face. They were dark, a thick inky black substance that stained where it touched. Soon it was racing down the other cheek but Eddie didn’t attempt to wipe it away. Leaning down closer, he pressed his forehead to his charges’ shoulder. “Please darling. Just a little longer. Help is coming.” His fingers touched the male’s cheek, watching the healthy color steadily turn to something so vile and sickly that should never touch the skin of a living human. He wrapped his arms carefully around Waylon’s torso, resting his head against his chest. Barely able to hear the soft flutter of the techie’s heart beat as it faded closer to eerie silence. “Waylo-”

 

“Waylon!” The familiar deep voice of the journalist barked into the house as he threw the front door open. “Waylon!” He cried out, running through the living room and only barely catching a glimpse of Waylon’s shoes peeking out around the kitchen cabinetry. “Waylon!” He dropped to his knees and pushed the techie over onto his back, resting his ear to his chest, he started chest compressions in quick succession. Counting out each one in every huff. Eddie could hear the crunch of bone in Waylon’s chest as his rib cage gave under the pressure. He crawled up along the wall when the paramedics entered and joined in.

 

The house was painted in the red and blue glow of flashing emergency lights. I.V tubes were attached to his arms and an air mask placed over his face. The police rushed inside and inspected the surroundings to secure the home and started questioning Miles. The journalist was barely able to contain himself as he watched the paramedics work away at the small fragile looking blonde. The journalist showed the officers the text he got on his phone, which he called for help on his way over. They had tried to draw Miles out of the house to continue questioning but he politely declined, his emerald gaze was damp as he watched the paramedics continue their work tirelessly. “Waylon, I’m sorry.” He murmured, the first of the tears fell as seconds stretched on to minutes. With every minute, the chances of getting him back steadily declined.

 

The paramedics prepared to shock Waylon, watching the monitor as they cleared away from the body. Eddie watched in horror as Waylon’s body jolted suddenly from the electricity surging through it. A paramedic resumed compressions and they repeated it. “Clear!” He called. Another heart wrenching jolted as the body moved like a lifeless doll only to slump back to the floor, limp again. The paramedics continued. Miles was forced to turn away when he heard them call out again. “Clear!” The sound of the devices charging and delivering the shock made his own chest hurt and his breath leave his throat. “Wait! We have a pulse!” One of the paramedics called out and the flurry of activity ignited as they set an air way, connecting to an oxygen bottle, providing a steady stream. Miles watched helplessly as he was loaded onto a gurney and rushed to the ambulance. The house was left in the hands of the police to investigate what went on. Miles followed close behind in his jeep, racing to the hospital in a flurry. Eddie retreated to Waylon’s bedroom, closing his eyes as he entered the darkness to track his charge, meeting him at the hospital when the ambulance arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: Please, if you or anybody you know has an ongoing struggle with depression or thoughts of suicide, please do not hesitate to reach out and seek help. As somebody who has struggled with both of these for years, I know what that feels like. But know you are not alone and that this will not be the end. Not in the story context or in life. Your life is a story that may have hit a few rough and bumpy chapters but please do not seek to end it. There are people who love and care for you. There is always a happier ending in your future though you may not see it. 
> 
>  
> 
> As far as this story goes, there are still many more chapters to come so please, do not fear.


	8. Soft Heart, Hard Exterior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miles has to make the hard choices in regards to Waylon's well being and safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the feedback so far on all the chapters. There are still plenty more to come so I hope you all continue to hang in there in on this rollercoaster of feels. Please leave a comment down below if you like the chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

At the hospital, Waylon was treated with high flow oxygen and quickly prepped and placed inside a pressurized hyperbaric chamber. It was large, about the size of an average hospital bed with a large enclosed chamber around it. There was a machine that filled the chamber with pure oxygen at a controlled rate and saturated his blood cells enough to help rid him of the gas molecules he inhaled and return his respiratory and oxygen levels back to normal. There was a heart monitor fixed on the outside of the chamber for the staff to watch over for any changes. His body was draped in white patient’s garments and there was a nurse sitting in the room with him. It was like any other normal hospital room with a television fixed on the wall above but at the moment it was off. The lights were turned down low so as not to bother him and he was sedated for the time being.

 

His body was ashen in complexion but still a more preferable color compared to the hypoxic blue shade that had seeped into his lips and skin. His heartbeat was a slow jump across the monitors and his blood pressure was barely remaining a stable level. They had run tests earlier to check for any damage to his brain, making certain the oxygen deprivation didn’t start killing it off. They were extremely lucky this time around. Had Miles or anyone been even a minute or so later, the situation would have been far worse.

 

From the darkness nearby, a figure crept into the room. A shadow unlike all the rest, blue eyes glowing like jewels against a pitch black sky. The normally prim and proper form was shrouded in dark swirls of shadows as long talons extended to touch against the glass capsule keeping the creature away from its charge. Massive black wings extended from it’s back, thick coal black feathers, soft as silk and strong as a November storm. It stirred a gust in the room, a chilling draft that made the nurse uneasy, spurring her from her seat and up on her feet to investigate. It made the doors shudder and tremble before silence resumed. “My darling.” The voice had a disembodied echo resonating within a broad chest. It sounded ethereal as the creature exposed it’s complete form.

 

A row of sharp teeth glinting in the dim light, the dark orbs within the creature’s eyes reflected the soft glow of the monitors. “I failed to protect you yet again.” The voice was soft, a dreary tone dripping from his lips. A mournful wail for only one to hear. Eddie’s eyes rested on the slow rise and fall of his charge’s chest, with every breath was a painful wheeze like sound. To think of what Waylon must have been feeling to go to such lengths. What he may have been thinking at the time. His charge was the kind to suffer in silence, never speaking up about his pain. Never letting it show. He put on a brave face, even in Eddie’s presence and the creature never once noticed.

 

The silence of the room was disturbed only by the soft monotonous beeping of the heart monitor and the quiet whisper of air filling the chamber. The soft patter of footsteps made their way down the quiet hall. At first, Eddie assumed it was the nurse returning until he heard the footsteps enter the room and pause in the threshold. The breath caught in the newcomer’s throat as a familiar presence entered. Eddie turned to see the emerald eyed journalist walk inside, the skin around his eyes was red and a little puffy. His brunette locks were a disheveled mess from repeatedly running his fingers through them. Behind him a dark mass of shadows hovered. A cloud that seemed to swarm his presence, curling around the tall built frame like a serpent, offering a form of comfort to it’s charge. A pair of golden eyes gazed back from the swarm, meeting Eddie’s gaze with a sympathetic expression.

 

Eddie returned it with apology in his own. He tucked his wings back against his chest and stepped aside, giving Miles space to approach the chamber. Like Eddie, the journalist lifted his hand to touch the glass, palm pressed against the cooler surface as he sniffled quietly, head hanging in defeat. He moved a chair over to sit beside Waylon’s unconscious form. No other sound was present in the room as the trio watched over the blonde for what seemed like hours. The only disturbances came with the occasional entry of nursing staff and the appearance of police officers come to further question the journalist on information discovered at the scene. They brought up the fact the fire department discovered a large amount of carbon monoxide in the garage. To the point of deadly levels and the vehicle was still warm. They were able to piece together that rather it was intentional or not, Waylon had spent too long in the enclosed space with his vehicle on.

 

They concluded that maybe he overlooked the dangers and was lingering like some people tend to do when they get home rather it was for some reason or another. Miles stated that Waylon had already been in the house when he showed up and that he had received the text from his best friend. He showed it again to the police with the timestamp beside it and compared it to the timestamp for the call from dispatch. They informed Miles that a call to emergency services under Waylon’s phone number had come in but nobody had spoken up in distress. They played the recording for Miles, the sound of pots and pans banging together and clattering around. The journalist made mental notes of these instances and helped fill in the final report for the officers before they left them alone for the night.

 

Miles had his own thoughts on the situation. The police had given Waylon’s phone back to him from the scene, leaving the journalist time to scroll through some of the information on it. There was an email that had been opened from the company stating the official documentation of Waylon’s termination of employment. The name of the supervisor was signed underneath, officiating the document as his decision. The time stamp for the email was listed as the afternoon. Leading Miles to believe the actual meeting may have happened earlier in the day.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me, Way?” He murmured, leaning forward in his seat as he rested his head in his palms. The journalist lamented the fact his friend hadn’t informed him of his troubles. As Miles scrolled through the techie’s email, he noticed the increasing number of messages from the same supervisor over the last couple weeks. Some demanding high amounts of work in short time spans, others were berating him for not being fast enough or for his work not meeting standards. It was easy for Miles to see how these instances could get to Waylon and run him down.

 

The journalist looked back over at the techie, his eyes resting on the angry red scarring across the male’s palm, still healing from the injuries. His mind worked away at these new pieces, putting them together with other evidence he had collected so far. The conclusion left a sour taste in his mouth, a sickening knotting feeling tying up his gut and making him queasy at the thought. The right choice always seemed to be the hardest to make but the journalist wasn’t going to let this instance slide. He had come too close to losing his best friend once. He wasn’t going to turn a blind eye and risk Waylon becoming another statistic to be buried in a pile of data and excuses being trampled across the next societal study in the local news.

 

 

 

By the next day, Waylon had regained consciousness, his eyes opening slowly to find Miles slumped to the side with his head resting in his palm, elbow propped up on the arm of the chair. His eyes were closed as gentle breathes moved through him. The blonde released a slow deep breath to relax, shifting slowly in the bed as he turned his pale blue eyes up to meet the shadowy figure clinging to the ceiling above. Dark wings were outstretched like some form of gruesome reaper awaiting to claim him but the strong body was familiar. The broad shoulders stretched so easily to press as close to the ceiling as possible. The head of dark locks hanging awkwardly to the side like a feather bob on a bird. “Eddie..” He whispered, drawing the creature’s attention.

 

The head turned quickly, nearly giving the creature whiplash as his front talons released from the ceiling and his body bent back to stretch out towards the chamber. Long claws gently tapping across the glass. Waylon raised his hand to touched them, giving a small apologetic smile to the male. Their touch lingered before another voice rose between them. There was a speaker attached to the chamber that could be turned on and off to allow the occupant to speak and be heard outside and vice versa. Miles had kept the speaker on all night long, to be able to hear Waylon should he need his attention. “Waylon?” The journalist asked, sitting more upright to address his friend. His emerald eyes taking note of the odd way the techie was positioned, the way he pressed his palm against the glass as if longingly. It made something ache inside Miles, a feeling he wasn’t at all fond of.

 

“Hey, Miles.” He murmured out with a hoarse rasped, withdrawing his hand from Eddie’s and resting it back over his chest. He was still having some trouble with breathing, the tightness in his chest lingered and his throat felt raw and agitated but other then that, he was fine.

 

“How ya doin buddy? You gave me quite a scare.” Despite the circumstances, Miles couldn’t deny the relief he felt to hear Waylon’s voice again. To see those pale blue eyes gaze back at him, the soft dark smudges around the edges from sleepless nights and stress.

 

Waylon shifted in the bed so he was somewhat lying on his side. He had an I.V tube attached to his arm still, mindful of it and the other tubes and monitor cords attached to his body. He shifted the pillow to tuck underneath his head as he offered a pleasant smile to his friend, still weary from the ordeal but he was happy nonetheless to see Miles. Though, the circumstances could have been far better. This situation had a tight feeling adding to the already uncomfortable pressure in his chest. “I’m feeling better.” He murmured softly before adding, his gaze averted towards the medical bracelet around his wrist with his patient information on it. “I’m sorry Miles, about all of this.” His voice dropped a bit softer as he spoke into the speaker on the side of the head rest.

 

“You don’t worry about that right now, alright? Just focus on getting better.” Miles spoke firmly, his lips pulled back into a strained smile, trying to be reassuring to his friend and push aside his personal feelings at the moment. Miles placed his hand against the side of the chamber, a gesture of affection or as close as he could get in the situation. Waylon nodded, pressing his palm up against the glass to meet Miles. He offered a smile of his own before turning his head to bury into the crook of his elbow, trying to hold back the rough ball of emotion rising up in his throat. Taking slow steady breaths to calm himself, he heard Miles moving to get up. “I’m going to talk to the doctor real quick. I’ll be right back. You going to be alright until then?”

 

“Yeah.” Waylon nodded, raising his pale orbs to meet the journalist’s inquiring gaze. “Don’t worry. It’s not like I can get up and wander off.” He offered, giving a mirthless laugh that made the journalist wince. He nodded and headed out the door, leaving Waylon alone to his thoughts. He turned over to his back and smiled up at the creature now stretched out across the top of the chamber like a lazy old tomcat. His arms folded comfortably with his head rested in them, the pair of blue jewels staring gazing down upon him with a fond and studious expression. There was a softness swirling within, a pain that lingered beneath the surface that Waylon couldn’t quite put his finger on.

 

 

 

 

With Waylon’s status stabilized and looking much better, he was moved to a more proper room in the hospital with a normal bed. He was to wear an oxygen mask still and remain on low activity until notified otherwise. Miles stayed by his side for two more days until he was cleared from the hospital. The journalist had been gone most of the morning, off at Waylon’s house trying to clean up most of the mess left behind by the paramedics and the scene itself. He was surprised to find that it had been cleaned up by a couple of the emergency personnel that stayed behind to investigate what had occurred. There was only a few small things that needed to be tended to before he could return to pick Waylon up from the hospital.

 

When he arrived, Waylon was showered and dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed prepared to return home. He was skimming through his phone, mumbling something to himself or, by the way he was talking on what little Miles could pick up from outside the room, he was directing the conversation towards someone. When Miles knocked on the doorway, Waylon jolted in place, eyes widened before he slowly relaxed, letting out a nervous breath. “Ready to head home?”

 

“Yeah.” Waylon tucked his phone into his jean pocket and stretched out with his arms above his head good naturedly. The dark green long sleeve button up added a bit of color to the dreary room and the starch white background. “I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed again.” He rocked forward and was up on his feet with a sigh as he shoved his hands in his pockets. His eyes taking a momentary glance back towards the window, the shades were drawn shut still but Waylon appeared focused before giving a brief nod and continuing to follow Miles out of the hospital.

 

The drive to Waylon’s place was long and quiet. The techie was leaning against the window of the jeep door, his head propped up on the sill as he stared out at the passing buildings and cars on the main roads. When they reached a more quiet portion closer to Waylon’s home, Miles finally spoke up. “How about staying over at my place for a bit?” He asked, breaking the idle silence between them.

 

“Sounds good Miles but I’d really like to spend at least one night in my own bed.” He chuckled. “Why don’t you stay over at my place instead?” He returned the offer, his pale blue eyes turning towards the journalist. Miles’ fingers drummed on the steering wheel in thought as he hummed in affirmation. He held off his answer until they were pulled into Waylon’s driveway. They climbed out of the vehicle and headed up to the house, Waylon leading with a little more excitement in his gait. He was glad to be home, if only to finally have a bit of privacy again.

 

As they entered the house, Waylon kicked off his shoes and glanced around almost expectantly. His eyes lit up with delight to be somewhere familiar and safe again. Even though the hospital was technically a safe place, it wasn’t _his_ safe place. “Listen, Way? I really need to talk to you about something.” Miles spoke up as Waylon headed to the kitchen to rummage through the cabinets for something more edible than hospital food.

 

“What’s up?” He mused, giving the journalist a glance, expecting a carefree expression but his searching halted at the serious tone coming from his best friend. It gave Waylon a sudden sinking feeling in his chest. “Miles?” He asked, his voice holding the first tremor of nerves.

 

Miles took a deep breath, already prepared to go ahead with his plan. He released it, long and slow before setting a confident and determined gaze upon the anxious techie. He didn’t want to scare Waylon but if that’s what it took to get through to his friend, the he would do it. “I want you to move in with me, today.”

 

“What?” It was a bark of laughter that faded too quickly, holding little amusement in it’s sound. “What is this about Miles? You’re not making any sense-”

 

“Waylon, you and I both know what happened the other day. What you had _tried_ to do.” Miles put emphasis on it, despite knowing he was near successful in his attempt. “I want you to move in with me today. I want you to get help even if it's just something as simple as therapy or counseling once a week.  _Something_ is enough.”

 

Waylon’s amusement had vanished at that point. He placed a hand on the edge of the counter, feeling a small bit of dizziness as these words made it to him. He found trouble making sense of them, no, more like believing that his friend had even spoken them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Miles. I didn’t _do_ anything.” He tried to give a smile but it was plastic and crumbled quickly. His lungs felt stiff, struggling for air as Miles stepped closer to him. The look in his eyes made him nervous, an expression that Waylon couldn’t decipher and it frightened him.

 

“Don’t lie to me Waylon. I know what’s been going on.” Miles reached into his pocket as he continued. “You hear and see things that aren’t there. One day you’re too afraid to go into your own house the next day you won’t leave it or let me in. You’re having conversations with people that don’t exist-”

 

“No. That’s not true.” Waylon stated, feeling a creeping heat rise across his body, a cold sweat forming at his neck. He felt dizzy and sick all at once. “You’re mistake-”

 

“Then who is Eddie? Huh, Waylon? Who is Eddie?” Miles turned on his phone and pressed an open tab. The volume was turned all the way up on the recording app, playing one of Waylon’s many personal and private conversations with Eddie. Mentioning the creature’s name and talking about him crawling on the ceiling and walls. Waylon took a step back away from Miles, feeling anger well up inside him.

 

“Waylon, either you move in with me today and seek professional help, or I’m going to have to have you committed.” He held up his phone and pressed another audio recording, yet another instance of Waylon talking to the invisible being. There were dozens of these recordings and even a few video clips taken from odd angles, obviously so the techie wouldn’t notice he was being filmed. One of which was at the digital store as he spoke to Eddie standing right beside him before the device was tucked back away. Waylon felt a rush of betrayal digging into him, a sharp jab to his heart. A slicing pain that bordered unbearable. He was short of breath and the world felt like it was crumbling around him. “I have enough evidence for them to accept the registration. Don’t make me do that, Waylon. I want you to get help but don’t make me have to go that far.” The voice was firm, persistent. But Miles’ eyes were pained, desperate and pleading to the techie to accept his offer. He didn’t want to hurt his friend but there was little he was left with for options. He already came so close to losing him once. He wasn’t prepared to go through that again.

 

Waylon felt tears burning in his eyes, blurring his vision as he closed the short distance between them. Miles had little warning before the techie’s fist met his jaw in a hard right swing. The pain in Waylon’s hand was a fiery explosion as the still rather tender wound protested against the attack. “You bastard!” Waylon growled as Miles stumbled back, stunned. He touched his cheek, feeling the sharp jabbing of the first hit. He turned in time to see Waylon winding up for a second one, catching his wrists before it could make contact. “You fucking asshole! How could you?” The words were harsh and accusatory. The anger and grief twisted up Waylon’s features as he struggled through the confusing conflicting onslaught of emotions.

 

Miles could only fend the techie off as he continued. “You’re leaving me no other choice Waylon! You think I want to do this? You think this feels good to me, doing these things to you?” Miles pushed back, pinning Waylon back against the counter to try and subdue him. “How the fuck do you think I felt seeing you lying on the fucking ground without a pulse? You think I like doing this?” He screamed back as Waylon lunged forward only to end up slammed back into place. “I don’t want to see my best friend die!”

 

“I didn’t ask for your help!” Waylon screamed back. “You don’t know anything!”

 

“Cause you won’t fucking tell me anything! You won’t open up or let me in? How am I supposed to know that you were suffering or that you lost your fucking job? You never told me!” Miles blurted back, catching Waylon off guard. The techie’s eyes widened at the realization. There was only one way Miles would know that and it twisted that blade in his chest around, forcing it deeper and shredding his heart to pieces.

 

“You asshole!” He cried out and drew his knee up, slamming it into Miles’ gut and forcing the journalist back. Miles’ breath was knocked out of his chest, forcing him to buckle over, clutching at his stomach. Before he could recover, Waylon was on him in the blink of an eye, having him pinned to the floor as another fist met his jaw in an explosion of white. “I trusted you!” Waylon screamed, his vision blurred badly enough that he could no longer make out Miles’ face. He choked out the next string of words as he pushed back up to his feet, leaving Miles on the ground to nurse his new injuries. “You’re no friend of mine. Get out. I don’t ever want to see you again.” His words broke.

 

“Waylon…” The words faltered as the techie drew away from his friend.

 

“I SAID GET OUT!” He screamed in a sudden flare of anger, forcing Miles to his feet. The journalist’s features were twisted up into a grimace, his own struggles to contain the storm of emotions didn’t betray the stony facade he worked so carefully to build as he retreated out of the techies house. He wiped at his split lip and the rivulets of blood dripping down from his nostril, the residual ache in his jaw adding to the thunderous headache in his skull. The door slamming shut behind him, causing him to wince as that throbbing pain increased. Miles made it to his jeep, pulling out of the driveway and making it around the corner before he was forced to park off to the side of the road. His hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as the stoic expression broke down into a hard gut wrenching sob. His hands trembling as he reached for his phone, bringing up the number programmed into his phone. The last resort. His hands were shaking as the torrent of emotions swelled up and consumed him, forcing him to hold out a little longer before making that call.

 

Once the jeep was out of sight, Waylon broke down, dropping to his knees with his back against the front door. The locks in place as he curled up on himself. His knuckles were split open and bleeding, adding to the mixture of Miles’ blood starting to dry on his skin. His entire body was trembling as the dark shadow lurked down the hallway, dark blue orbs peering out with concern towards the smaller blonde. He looked so pitiful and fragile. The same frightened little boy from so many years ago, curled up in front of his bedroom door, hiding away from the world that disowned him. “Waylon?” The voice was soft, a silky melody that waned with concern and sympathy. He moved slowly, crouching low towards the smaller human. “Are yo-”

 

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” Waylon mumbled through the whimpers and hiccups, trying to catch his breath. His eyes were reddened from the upset as he tried to wipe away at the tears, rubbing at his face with his palms. “I don’t want to be here anymore, Eddie.”

 

The creature contemplated this, fearing what his charge may do with this new desire. He had very little options in this world and it was obvious the ones Waylon should be turning to weren’t what the techie wanted. He was empathetic towards the journalist for at least trying despite knowing the rate of failure and risking their relationship. As Waylon’s guardian, his purpose was to help the boy and protect him. Even if that sometimes meant protecting him from himself. He took a deep breath, making up his mind as he held out his arms towards the techie. ‘Come here darling. Let me take you away from here.” He offered, catching Waylon off guard but the human didn’t contemplate this meaning or question it. Throwing himself into Eddie’s arms, the creature wrapped them around his charge and scooped him up to hold tightly against his chest. They moved down the hallway and into Waylon’s bedroom, The door behind them closing gently with a soft gust of air rushing through. The doors to Waylon’s closet creaking open to expose the darkened void within. “Let’s go home.” Eddie cooed to his charge, taking the first steps into the darkness until they were completely swallowed up.


	9. Fanart Chapter:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided to take a moment to recognize some amazing fanart for this fic by Theaurorazephyr on tumblr and here on AO3. It is amazing and I love it and since there is so much, of it, I wanted to do a chapter to help showcase it all in one instead of an add on to previous chapters. 
> 
> [] These were posted with the permission of the creator. []

 

Here are the first two. The next is sort of a piece where if Eddie had batlike wings instead of his angel wings which I adore the idea of just as much. ^.^

 

 

 

And that is all for now. ^.^ Please check them out on tumblr. They are a fantastic artist along with many others. 

 

http://theaurorazephyrblade.tumblr.com/post/172073335372/last-attempt 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please stay tuned for the next installment of Monster Under the Bed. It will be up soon. I've been recovering from an injury and haven't been able to spend much time on a laptop to write but with it starting to get better now, I'm hoping I can be right back to updating chapters soon. ^.^
> 
> Thank you all for your support throughout this story. I means so much to me.


	10. Smoke In The Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie brings Waylon home. Miles goes looking for his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long and unannounced hiatus. I am back. I had been focusing all of my time and attention to my Medusa/Naga Eddie x Blind Waylon AU Heart of Stone (which is finally finished and I am so happy and somewhat sad because that was a lot of fun.)
> 
> I also had a sudden injury occur the morning I posted chapter 8, which left me laid up and unable to write for almost three weeks. It was miserable because I was dying to write this next chapter and I had it all planned out. But then that long break changed things (and my dumbass didn't leave myself notes to come back to) and I had to change what I had been planning (because I forgot it all) But this ended up working out in the end. 
> 
> So here is the next chapter. Thank you all for your support and comments. Please leave a comment down below if you liked what you read. Enjoy!

 The steady swell of fog rolled across the dreary landscape surrounding a massive lake. The water was crystal clear, like any other found in a high mountain environment, but when settled into the lake bed, it shone like liquid silver. Thick fog was a constant presence regardless of day or night, never changing or dissipating. It was thinner in some areas and in others, one couldn’t see past their nose. Bright iron lamps created a path around the lake, a foot trail leading those around it so as not to accidentally fall in. These same rustic iron lamps and lantern posts trailed from the lake towards the small town nearby.

 

The air held a static chill that clung around like a cold sweat, an eerie silence settling over the land. The surface of the lake was smooth like glass, undisturbed by any life forms, not a single organism lived within that deep mercury abyss. This didn’t stop ripples to spread out across the surface, beginning in the center before trailing with bubbles towards the shoreline.As the bubbles neared a lamp-lined foot trail out of the water, the dark head of the creature up. Silvery water parted as he trudged towards the shoreline, carrying his darling, clenched tightly in his arms. The blonde’s head was lolled to the side, his chest rising in slow, even breathes, no pain or distress present on his face. Only the soft chill of a breeze picking up stirred shivers through his body. Despite where they just came from, their bodies were completely dry.

 

Eddie planted a soft kiss on Waylon’s forehead, stroking his fingers through the unruly blonde locks that curled around his face. The creature’s fingers were normal, no talons or claws, and no gangly slender digits, only the calloused hands of a hard working man, the fingers worn away from repetitive use. The hardened crust of scarring was gone as well. The skin on his face was smooth and clear, unblemished by any trauma. Fangs and wings disappeared from his form as well, leaving behind a human resemblance.

 

Eddie continued walking along the path, guided by the soft orange glow of lantern light, heading towards the town. Like any other small mountain town, a main street ran through the center; shops and businesses on both sides, along with a small diner and a bank. People actively walked the streets, aided by the soft glow of their own lanterns as they moved about, unfazed by the darkness and fog. Soft laughter came from children as a young mother scurried them along into a bakery, the faint scent of fresh breads wafted on the air  even after the door closed behind.

 

There was the quiet chime of a bell on the bank door as a tall slender man with long grey hair and spectacles exited onto the sidewalk. Softened grey eyes met Eddie’s before lowering to address the slumped figure in his arms, a curious brow raised but no words were spoken. Eddie carried Waylon to his destination across the way, a bridal shop with a closed sign in the front window. He made his way past to a side set of steps leading up to the second floor where a separate apartment was.

 

The inside was a quaint little set up. An open floor plan for the living room, dining space and kitchen, a bar with three stools lining it for easy seating and conversation. Behind was the kitchen table with four seats. All of it was a mixture of dark wood with ivory accents, and plump white cushions for comfort. The living room shared the same contrast of black with white patterns. A plush black leather couch with white throw pillows and black embroidered accents on the fabric. All done by Eddie’s own hands. There was a dark wood coffee table and a short hallway heading towards the only other room.

 

The creature had a large four poster bed with a canopy draping over top with the same dark wood pattern and color accents, this included the soft silken black sheets, and white comforter with black embroidery. White curtains covered the arch style glass pane windows, adding a soft lighting to the apartment. Strung along the walls were soft white decorative lights. The delicate fragrance of a spiced autumn candle danced on the air, the candles themselves were normally placed as decorative pieces on the bar and dining room table, giving a nice change of season in this dark, dreary world.

 

The only other doors were to the attached master bathroom, and the closet next to it, both being currently closed and blocking any view inside. Eddie didn't bother with anything in his home, focusing solely on his charge, carefully cradled in his arms until he was gently laid into the bed. Eddie retrieved a damp cloth to clean the blood on Waylon’s hands from his scuffle with Miles. Fingers slowly brushed aside the golden bangs to get a better look at the softer coloring of the techie’s face, a faint flush of pink resting on his cheeks as Eddie tended to him. Once he was certain the human was settled in and fine, Eddie pulled the blanket under Waylon’s chin to keep him warm before he returned to the living room to consider just exactly what he’s done and how he was to resolve this problem.

 

 

 

 

Miles spent the last couple hours sitting on a bench at the local courthouse while his case was decided on by a judge. He had given them all of the appropriate evidence in order to declare a court ordered 5150, which is an involuntary 72-hour psychological evaluation. It had been an entire hour and a half just to get a judge to see him, waiting through several other cases being done. He was finally seen and he proposed his request, explained everything that had gone on and even had copies of Waylon’s recent medical evaluations for his injuries sustained over the last couple weeks. All of which were made note of as suspicious and possible signs of self-harm. He even had a copy of the written report from the police and the fire dept stating the conditions that were discovered on the scene when Waylon had nearly died.

 

It took two more pain staking hours for the judge to issue the warrant for Waylon to be picked up by a police officer. Miles made contact with the officer and even a medical unit had been placed on standby before they attempted to approach Waylon’s home. They knocked several times but there was no answer. Miles started first, announcing himself but no sound, then the officer announced their presence hoping that Waylon would come to the door then. Silence continued as another officer arrived on the scene and they checked the windows, but all the curtains were drawn shut, preventing them from seeing inside.

 

Miles offered to unlock the door and they entered the house, the journalist following in slowly. The blood was still on the floor, smudging the door where their hands had touched it during the fight. There were smudges from Waylon’s hands on the kitchen counter as well, bloodied fingerprints but no sign of Waylon. His bags and his house keys remained where he had left them on the table, untouched. His vehicle was still in the garage. There wasn’t a single light or electronic on in the house to show his presence was even there.

 

The officers grew worried about this absence and radioed dispatch to put an APB out on Waylon. Miles gave a description to the police of what the techie had been wearing last and commented, after a walk through in the house, that Waylon had left without changing his clothes. The garments and everything were untouched, with him being the last to interact with Waylon’s bedroom when he picked up clothes for him to wear home from the hospital that morning. He even supplied a recent photo of the techie from their latest outing and shenanigans. It was one where they were together in a selfie with Waylon’s face lit up by a massive smile. It was taken at the mall, right after leaving the specialty popcorn shop. Their lips were colored a slight shade of blue from some candied popcorn they were eating as they pressed close together. Miles’ had an arm thrown around Waylon’s shoulder as the techie gave a laughing grin to the camera.

 

The officer looked at the photo for a long moment, glancing back up at Miles’ now downcast and weary features. The dark circles were showing around his eyes and the joy that had been on his face at the mall was nowhere present now. He looked run down and deeply worried. “Don’t worry, alright? We’ll find him. You should head home and get some rest.” The officer offered, giving him a reassuring smile, it was small but the man showed sincerity in it. Miles nodded and trailed out of Waylon’s home, locking it up behind them before they parted ways.

 

 

 

Miles couldn’t help himself, he had started on his way home from Waylon’s house but somehow he ended up scouring the park and the trails that the techie would frequent on walks in his free time. He went to every store, cafe, diner, just looking wherever Waylon might pop up at. He drove all over town, asking people, calling friends and even reaching out to a few of Waylon’s coworkers to find out if they had heard anything from him. In the end, it was radio silence. Miles returned home late that night and attempted a moment’s break on the couch until his phone buzzed loudly across the coffee table. He jolted up, his hopes high that Waylon was calling, only to frown at the sight of his own boss’s number flashing across the screen.

 

Miles answered it, getting several confused questions as to why he had up and disappeared so suddenly. He gave a brief explanation of the situation, calling it a family emergency and requesting a few days off. He was lucky enough to have an employer who was understanding and who granted him the reprieve for time. He sighed once he hung up the phone, giving it a long look before he pushed himself back up from the couch and continued with his work. He spent hours on the internet, searching up other information that might give him more insight behind the troubles his best friend had been going through. Starting with a little background info on the techie’s problematic employer. Miles had memorized the man’s name and email, looking up quite a bit of dirt on him and investigating a few different rumors from past allegations. Some of which involved misconduct and sexual harassment of female employees. It would seem any time an employee was perceived as a problem, or they were looking into the supervisor’s actions, said employee would be fired and blacklisted, often times ending up with their careers completely dragged through the mud and left with nowhere else to go as far as work. The same which Miles could only assume, had happened to Waylon.

 

It was becoming more clear as to why Waylon felt he had no other option. Technology and computers were his whole life. It was Waylon’s passion. It’s what he looked forward to each and every day, it’s what he was good at. Miles knew better then anyone else, how devoted and determined and persistent the techie was when it came to his work. He was fast, smart and reliable. He was also better prepared, experienced and trained in this field, coming out at the top of his class in college, with high marks from all of his professors. To suddenly have all of that result in nothing, losing his livelihood all because of someone else’s ego, Miles could only imagine the kind of blow that would be.

 

 

When Miles wasn’t out searching the town, he would be back at his house looking over the emails he received from past employees and informants with a little extra intel. He couldn’t sleep, and couldn’t sit still for very long. By the end of the second night, he was running on his twelfth cup of coffee that day and was heading out of the house to hop in his jeep. He hadn’t heard anymore from the police and called every now and then to see if they heard anymore about Waylon. Each time, his hopes would plummet when he was told no. This same affect came each time his phone would buzz or ring.

 

His heart would hammer in his chest, praying that this time it would be Waylon. He wasn’t expecting an apology or for the techie to come moping back and say Miles was right. All the journalist wanted was to know that his best friend was safe. Each passing hour, his thoughts were turn towards the darker images of Waylon being dead in a ditch somewhere or stuck out in the cold and rain that had fallen over the town in the last day or so. He was terrified of getting that call from the police that they found his body in some back alley or behind a gas station or convenience store.

 

He played over what he would say when he found Waylon or if the techie did call him, going over every single possible scenario he could think of. When he wasn’t delving through that, he was replaying their fight in his head and going over a million other ways he could have talked to Waylon. All the different ways he could have appealed to him, telling himself that he should have waited to have that conversation. That it was too soon. His timing was bad or that he was too forward, too demanding of him. Or maybe, maybe Waylon would have come to him with it. Maybe if he had just waited, let Waylon have one night of peace, that in the morning he could have talked things over with Miles. It was too late now. Miles couldn’t take any of what he said back. He couldn’t erase those feelings or remove the image burned in his mind of the look of betrayal that crossed Waylon’s passive features. The anger in those eyes. He had never seen his friend so upset with him before. Even during their little fights and disagreements in the past, it had never gotten to that point. Waylon had never, in all his life, been violent towards anyone, let alone Miles.

 

The journalist was exhausted, feeling his eyes blur as he tried to focus on the road in front of him. The windshield wipers smearing streaks across the glass as they fought off the endless onslaught of rain. The darkness of night was closing in, the thick heavy clouds of steady storms blanketed the sky. He had been running now on two hours of sleep in the span of three and a half days. Though, those two hours he did manage, were while Waylon was still in the hospital. He had given it a good attempt, on several occasions in the night to sleep, but his thoughts refused him peace. He kept thinking about Waylon. About all the possibilities of what could have happened to him. He kept hearing his voice in the back of his head, calling his name. At other times it was screaming at him in anger, breaking with the hurt and betrayal that shattered the trust between them.

 

Miles didn’t feel content unless he was sitting behind the steering wheel of his jeep, searching for his friend. He cruised slowly through town, finding it was easier with the rain keeping everyone indoors and traffic was low with the time of night. He was working his way along the outskirts of town, closer to Waylon’s neighborhood when he felt a heaviness settling over him. He watched the idle back and forth of the windshield wipers, his vision becoming unfocused and distracted. He didn’t realize when he started to veer into the other lane until the blaring horn of a semi caused him to stir. He felt an odd sensation in his hands as the steering wheel was jerked over to the side, forcing him back into his own lane. He felt like he was running on autopilot as he pulled off to the shoulder of the road, putting the vehicle in park and turning on his hazards so as not to get clipped by passing cars.

 

He sat there, staring out the windshield as that same deep weight formed into his chest. His hands were gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white as he tried to focus. He was trembling, his entire body was shaking, it was subtle at first but as he let go of the wheel, his trembling hands became far more obvious. He curled his fingers into fists but found he hadn’t the strength to make them tight. He doesn’t realize that he’s hyperventilating until his own breath becomes far too loud in the quiet of the jeep. His eyes looking around the vehicle with a look of confusion, a lost panic seizes him. He feels like something is wrong, terribly wrong but he doesn’t know what. He’s desperate as he clutches at his chest, pulling at his clothing like it’s suffocating him.

 

The static chill settles over his skin, a breath at his neck and a voice of ethereal whispers trickling over his ear but he can’t make it out. He turns his head, feeling that sinking dread increase as a scream breaks from his chest. A dark smoky phantom is leaning over the driver’s seat, one long clawed hand resting on Miles’ shoulder. It’s cold, the touch, like icy crystals spreading across his shoulder, biting into flesh as if the fabric of his jacket wasn’t even there. He’s pale, the dark circles under his eyes add a haunting look to his features. His appearance is far more disheveled then he’s accustomed to seeing as he catches a brief glimpse in the rear-view mirror. The ominous golden eyes are staring back at him in the reflection, meeting his weary emerald gaze. “I’m dead, aren’t I?” Miles asks slowly, thinking back to the close call he just had. He was certain this was the reaper come to claim him for the afterlife.

 

The phantom slowly shakes its head. Miles’ doesn’t dare to turn and meet its gaze directly. The fear infects him, makes him freeze up, unable to look away. He sniffles in the silence, a hard swallow reminds him of his dry throat. His coffee has long since gone cold and empty in the cup holder beside him. It had been hours since his last drink. The heat flooding the car if stifling, he hadn’t realized he was sweating either but that hand on his shoulder, remains cold and heavy. The heavy patter of rain on his car windows invades the silence that settled. “Why are you here then?” Miles dares to ask. The phantom’s free hand reaches out, pressing its body closer to Miles and sending a shiver through him. He whimpers at its touch, his emerald eyes daring to look where those claws were going. They widen in surprise as the being activates the GPS system, a few clicks on the pad and his home address is mapped out.

 

His eyes trail over to the seat beside him and notice the files sitting on the cushion, a series of yellow sticky notes pressed over the cover of the manila envelope. He scans over several different messages scrawled in messy handwriting, he could only assume was his own written hastily in a delirium of exhaustion.

 

**_‘Get food’_ **

**_‘Don’t forget to shower’_ **

**_‘Take a nap’_ **

**_‘Drink something other than coffee’_ **

**_‘Go home’_ **

 

He couldn’t remember writing them though, as hard as he tried. It was then that he couldn’t really remember much of what he had done these last three days. Everything was a blur, from the moment he left Waylon’s hospital room to right this moment. Bits and pieces would rise up in the tidal waves of memory but he failed to recall anything else. He checked the date on his phone, taking in the fact that it had been three days which to Miles had only felt like one really long endless nightmare. He took a deep breath, letting himself calm down but the tight panicked feeling in his chest remained as did the phantom staring him down with such intrusive golden eyes. The bleak expression gave little else to go off of as he considered his options. “Alright. I’ll go home.” He murmured, giving into the phantom’s foreboding presence, as if its essence was whispering thoughts to him, influencing his mind.

 

He turned off his hazards and put the jeep in drive, taking one last glance in the rear-view mirror as he considered the being. It gave a curt pat to his shoulder, something Miles could almost consider as reassurance before pulling out onto the road and following the digitized female voice guiding him home.


End file.
